


Of Risks and Rewards

by Bgtea



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU - post BOTFA, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Comedy, Fíli centric, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, More characters to be added as the fic progresses, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sibling Incest, a hint of angst, a large splash of drama, because he deserves more love, because that's how i roll, which may or may not include the filthy dirty kind of love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bgtea/pseuds/Bgtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After BOTFA, Fíli can sense the growing separation between him and Kíli, but he is at a loss as to how he could even begin to rebuild the close relationship they once had. It is just his bad luck that fate is about to throw several more wrenches into his life in the form of suitors. </p><p>Lots and lots of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dears! I'm back and trying my hands on writing a new pairing! I hope you will all enjoy reading this fic and as always, please let me know what you think. Many thanks! 
> 
> [Edit - May 16, 2014] Now beta-ed! A massive thank you to the wonderful kailthia for her excellent work in polishing these chapters. Her tumblr can be found here: http://kailthia.tumblr.com/

The only thing stopping Fíli from leaving the party in a miserable huff was the rare sight of his uncle being dragged to the dance floor by a slightly tipsy Bilbo Baggins. The blond winced into his mug of honeyed mead as Thorin awkwardly jerked his limbs in a sad imitation to the Hobbit's nimble-footed dance, his steps completely out of sync from the beat of the merry song playing in the background. His usual majestic grace had long since disappeared (thanks to at least ten tankards of the truly _excellent_ mead), but from his low rumbling laughter and the rosy flush on his cheeks, he did not seem bothered by the loss of composure. If anything, Bilbo's utterly besotted look only made Thorin try harder.

It was all...unbearably sweet and profoundly uncomfortable to witness.  

Fíli snorted quietly, and shifted his gaze to the tables beside the dancing couple. Even seated, with their heads bowed in private conversation, the cluster of Elves was noticeably taller than the rest of the partygoers. The ethereal glow of their pale, beardless faces shone in the flickering golden light from the gilded candles lining the halls, and Fíli could spot more than a few curious glances aimed at the group.  

Fíli, however, was more interested by the sight of his little brother laughing raucously beside a grinning elf-maiden, the same one who had rescued him those many months ago at Lake-town. Kíli had spent the majority of the evening chatting with Tauriel, all bright-eyed, easy smiles, and with enough charisma to charm even the most aloof Elf. It was hard to believe that Kíli was anything but the joyful spirit that he currently was.

The blond's gaze softened at his little brother's bright laughter. It was good to see him finally coming out of the deep melancholy that had plagued him since the Battle. Goodness knows that Fíli had tried his damndest to be there for Kíli, but when Kíli ( _who had sat there on his cot, his back bowed and his eyes shuttered_ ) had asked Fíli to leave ( _I'm sorry, Fíli, I just need some time by myself to think_ ), Fíli was left with no choice but to swallow the sharp pang of rejection and ever rising worry so that he could –

 _Watch someone else do a better job than I did_ , Fíli finished his thought, the sharp taste of defeat bitter on his tongue. He'd have to be blind to miss the way that Kíli's face lit up when he had spotted the Elf captain, the way Kíli more than happily peeled himself away from Fíli to be with Tauriel, the way Kíli's posture loosened around her as if he was finally releasing all his pent up tension...

For the umpteenth time that evening, Fíli grimaced and swallowed the lonely feeling of abandonment that was eating at his chest. He was acting utterly ridiculous and was probably blowing this whole situation out of proportion, but the wedge between him and his brother had never been more apparent as of late, and Fíli didn't know how to  _fix_  this, Mahal curse the state of affairs that had brought them to this.

"Well, you must be the most miserable-looking Dwarf I've seen."

Fíli jumped back, startled, sloshing his drink all over his hand in the process. The stranger in front of him was tall (for a Dwarf) and olive skinned; His dark hair and well-groomed beard were beautifully braided in a style that gave away his youth and noble birth. Fíli's eyes trailed to the sigils etched into the fine silver beads of his hair to those that adorned the gleaming pin on the stranger's rich green tunic.  _Iron Hills Dwarf,_ Fíli concluded, _possibly related to Dain, a little older than Kíli but younger than me._  

Meanwhile, the other Dwarf raised an inquisitive brow and drawled, "And here I was expecting King Thorin to be the most austere–looking Dwarf in this establishment, but I believe I stand corrected. How can anyone not be happy standing beside a buffet table as grand as this one?" He pointed to the food-laden table beside Fíli. The miserable piece of furniture looked seconds away from collapsing under its own weight. 

"I – uh – apologies, Master Dwarf. You startled me," Fíli shook himself out of his stupor and gave a stiff little bow before squinting up at the Dwarf. "Have we met?"

The stranger cocked his head and gave Fíli a look-over. "Nope," he drawled again, pausing to take another slow sip of his mead, "but I have heard about you, Crown Prince Fíli of Erebor, although I was expecting more...majestic golden lion and less...this." He gave a vague wave in the direction of Fíli's body.

Fíli gaped at him for a few seconds before snapping his jaw shut with an audible click. "And pray tell, Master Dwarf, do you have a _problem_ with my appearance?" he snapped back, insulted and a tiny bit flattered because ' _majestic golden lion'?_  Really? Was that how the others saw him?

He did glance down quickly to see if something was amiss with his velvet Durin blue tunic. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

"It's not the clothing, your Highness. It's just that I wasn't expecting to see the crown prince sulking by the buffet table, throwing wistful doe-eyed looks at the Elves," the bastard of a Dwarf pointed out with a quirk of his lips. "Can't say I understand the appeal, not when you have such a fine selection of Dwarves to choose from. For example, Lady Rindr here," he gestured to a brunette Dwarrowdam at the end of the room, "has been desperately trying to catch your attention for the past three hours. Lady Groa, the one in the hideous blue skirt, that's the one – now  _she_ 's been plotting a strategy to catch you alone so that she can talk to you. Ohoh! Don't even get me started on Lady Helga, Lady Sigrun, Lady Kara, Lord Farin– "

" _Lord_  Farin?" Fíli choked out.

"Yes,  _Lord_  Farin," the stranger nodded, sounding entirely too amused for Fíli's liking. "There's also Lord Floi, Lord Nar, Lord Thrim, the list goes on and on, really. As you can see, you are quite spoiled for choices."

Fíli threw quick glances around himself, suddenly feeling very, very exposed by the buffet table. The Dwarrodam in the hideous blue dress waved a little too enthusiastically at him.

Fíli flinched.

Wild-eyed and more than a little afraid, the blond spun back around and hissed urgently at the stranger, "And what are  _you_  doing here? What is your purpose in all of this?"

"I just wanted you to know about the many options available to you, your Highness!" the Dwarf grinned in smug delight, and Fíli had to remind himself that it was  _not good at all_  to punch the git in the face. "Also, I figured that your royal highness could at least use a warning if you choose to make yourself an easy target by the buffet table. Your admirers are slowly circling closer, after all!"

He gave one last small bow to the prince, spun on his heel and marched steadfastly away from Fíli. "A last word of advice, Highness," he called out without turning around, "do try to dance with at least some of them. Otherwise, they would never leave you alone! Good day!"

Fíli had just enough time to blink dumbly at the stranger's back before he was swarmed on all sides by Dwarves asking him for a dance.

He never saw his brother's inquisitive eyes observing the whole exchange with suspicion.

 

* * *

 

"It was horrible, Kíli! I spent the evening trying to extract myself from Lord Thrim," Fíli groaned miserably into his open palms, his elbows resting on the breakfast table in a way that would have made Bilbo sniff in disapproval. "He has this weird fascination with locks and he wouldn't stop talking about them. How on Middle-Earth can anyone be this passionate towards locks, of all things?"

"Only you would complain about being popular with the Dwarves," Kíli said teasingly. He reached for a bread roll from the silver platter in front of him and slathered on a liberal amount of butter. "What about that other Dwarf?" he asked with his mouth full, crumbs dropping all over the front of his green tunic. Bilbo would have  _definitely_  disapproved of that. "I saw you talking to him before you were swarmed. What did he want?"

Fíli looked up from his hands and scowled at the memory. "No idea. Come to think of it, he never even introduced himself. He just strolled up to warn me about the Dwarves who were trying to get my attention. "

He reached for his own buttered roll and shrugged at Kíli's answering, "Huh, strange." There was no way that Fíli would admit to being caught gazing at Kíli and his Elven companions for the majority of the party by the strange Dwarf, not if he wanted to ruin the rare sense of normalcy that had settled over them this morning.

Breakfast in the royal family's sitting room had fast become an event that was only shared between the two brothers. Thorin tended to take his meals at his desk or with Bilbo, and the last time Fíli had accidentally interrupted his uncle's private time with the company burglar, Thorin had spent the rest of the day in a right cantankerous mood. Fíli was sure that after the events of that day, everyone in the Kingdom of Erebor (and possibly Mirkwood as well) knew better than to deprive his uncle of his morning Bilbo time.

(And if there was a small, tiny,  _selfish_  part of Fíli who was glad that he could jealously guard his time with Kíli, he wasn't going to openly admit to that either.)  

"Keep an eye out on that strange Dwarf, Fee. I think there's more to him than meets the eye." Fíli shook himself out of his stupor in time to catch the last of his brother's mumbled words, "I didn't like the way he looked at you."

"You mean with mild disdain?" He barked out a laugh, surprised, "Or whatever expression one sports when they are utterly unimpressed by someone? Either way, he didn't seem like he wanted to stay in my presence for too long so I wouldn't be too worried." Especially with that comment about looking less than expected, coupled with that dismissive hand gesture. Fíli's ego was still stinging from that.

"As if anyone can be unimpressed by you, Fee," Kíli scoffed, wiping his buttery hands all over the white table cloth and leaving behind large finger-shaped, greasy trails. It was a  _really_  good thing that Bilbo was not present or else he would have had a coronary, then murdered Kíli with a spoon. "And if he was, then more the reason for me not to like him." 

"Let's put that horrible Dwarf out of our heads and talk about something more pleasant," Fíli said. He deliberately kept his tone light to soothe away his brother's growing frown. "Have you packed for our hunting trip? I've spoken with the kitchens and they've made us enough food to last us through the afternoon."   

Kíli's face fell, and a look of guilt settled heavily on his features. "Ah – I'm so sorry, Fíli. I completely forgot about our hunting trip! I promised Tauriel that I would show her around Erebor after lunch. She was looking forward to visit the underground markets. Maybe…you can come along with us? I'm sure she wouldn't mind," he added hesitantly.

"Oh, um, no – no it's fine, Kíli. We can go hunting another day." Fíli patted Kíli's shoulder and smiled despite the heavy feeling of disappointment in his stomach. "Have fun today, alright? Try not to antagonize Miss Tauriel too much."

It wasn't as if Kíli had meant to forget about their trip, Fíli rationalized to himself later as he strolled out of the suite after breakfast. Uncle would have approved of Kíli's duty to play host to their esteemed guest and really,  _Fíli_  of all people should understand the importance of duty. His position as heir and crown prince demanded it of him. 

Still –  _Shafted again by Tauriel_ , a small voice in his head whispered. The familiar feeling of bitterness and hurt from the previous evening came creeping back into his heart, and the blond slumped dejectedly against the doors. He wondered if there were some signs that he missed...or if Kíli was trying to tell him something...

Or maybe Kíli was just not as interested in spending time with him anymore, not when there are a million other people who are infinitely more exciting than his boring older brother.

 _Like the Elves_ , Fíli thought, clenching his fists so tightly to his side until his knuckles are bone white. 

 _Like Tauriel_.

Tauriel, fair like the silver shining starlight that she and her kind so coveted and brave like the heroes whose great deeds are passed through the lips of one Dwarven generation to another. How could Fíli, dutiful, loyal, but utterly  _plain_  Fíli possibly compare to her?

"Why is it that every time I see you, you are in a perpetual state of melancholy?" Fíli's head snapped up at the sound of a  _very_  familiar, very irritating voice. "I thought the lovely time you had last night would have at least extended your good mood."

The strange Dwarf peered down at Fíli's bowed form and gave a small wave to add insult to injury. "Good day, Crown Prince Fíli!" he chirped brightly. "Fancy running into you this beautiful morn!"  

"You again!" Fíli straightened himself and stumbled upright, his motion clumsy and his cheeks heated from embarrassment. "How did you – what do you want?"

"Why, I'm doing well, thank you for asking!" the Dwarf answered blithely. "As always, your charming disposition makes you a delight to be around. And such courtesy! Your Highness is truly a shining example of grace."

"I – just," Fíli gave up what he wanted to say in retaliation and sighed deeply, opting instead to pinch the bridge of his nose as he forced away his frustration. He had a duty as crown prince to represent the best of Erebor and he was, admittedly, doing a piss-poor job of it. As aggravating as this Dwarf was, he deserved much better treatment than what Fíli was providing for him. "My apologies, Master Dwarf," Fíli said, his voice contrite. "That was rude of me. How are you doing, and what brings you near the royal wing?"

If the dark-haired Dwarf was surprised by the change in his demeanor, he did not show it. "Well, enough. Thank you for asking, your Majesty," he inclined his head forward and repeated graciously. His tone was much softer this time around although the mischievous smile had not fully left his face to Fíli's mounting dread. "As for the reason why I am here, I have actually come to seek you out."

"Oh," Fíli blinked in surprise. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Well, here I am. What is it that you need of me?"

"I – ah, perhaps it is best if we speak of this matter somewhere more private," the Dwarf suggested and before Fíli could question him further, he leaned close to the blond, so close that Fíli could feel the warmth of the stranger's breath brushing delicately against the side of his jaw. "I believe that you will be very interested to hear what I have to say," the dark-haired Dwarf said softly, Fíli struggling not to react even when he could feel the beginning of a furious blush blooming across his cheeks. Damn his tendency to flush at the drop of a pin. "I  _promise,_ " the stranger continued and oh,  _Mahal_ , he was purring into his ear, and damn it all, Fíli was  _not_  going to shiver, "I promise to make it worth your while, my Prince."

 _What in Durin's name_? Fíli swallowed hard and jerked his head away. He kept his questioning eyes fastened on the strange Dwarf despite the heat of his face, but his mind was turning over the meaning behind the message. Was this some sort of a prank at Fíli's expense? More importantly, why should he trust anything that the Dwarf may have to say?

"Fíli, you forgot to take your – " Kíli burst through the doors and trailed off at the sight of the stranger so close to Fíli. His gaze flickered over to his golden brother, stilled at the rosy red of his flushed cheeks before looking back at the stranger with hardened, cold, brown eyes. "What is going on?" Kíli asked slowly, dangerously.

With the grace that Fíli have only seen his brother exhibit when hunting, Kíli closed the doors behind him and strolled towards Fíli, his motions fluid and predatory. Fíli felt his mouth go dry from the palpable, mounting tension in the air. The strange Dwarf only quirked a brow, as if completely unfazed by the awkward silent that had fallen over the three Dwarves.

"And you must be Prince Kíli of Erebor," the stranger finally greeted a few seconds later. He pulled away and Fíli let go of the breath that he didn't know he was holding. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance at last. Now if you don't mind, I need to borrow his Highness for a short while –"

"He is busy," Kíli interjected, his eyes locked firmly on the stranger's. The archer placed a protective hand on Fíli's shoulder and pulled him backwards until the blond's back was pressed against the solid weight of Kíli's chest. "In fact, we were just getting ready to go hunting, aren't we, Brother?"

Fíli twisted around to face Kíli and frowned in confusion, "I thought you were –"

"Change of plans." Kíli smiled at Fíli as if nothing was amiss, "It's been a while and I rather miss hunting. Let's go on that trip."

"What about Miss Tauriel? Kíli, you can't just – "

"I can take her to the night market after dinner and I can show her the day market some other time. She's staying for a while, anyway, and I'm sure she'll understand the change of plans," Kíli said lightly. And because he can be a manipulative little  _shit_ , he turned his eyes, bright and huge on Fíli and positively whined in a sad, quivering tone, "Let's go hunting. Please, Fee? Please?"

And Fíli, very predictably, caved like a house of cards.

"Alright, Kee," he said, his lips curling up in a soft smile. He placed a hand over the one that Kíli has over his shoulder, "Let's go hunting."

"I see that you are busy, your Highnesses," the Dwarf coughed delicately. "My apology for interrupting your plans. Perhaps I shall have that discussion at a later time?" Without waiting for an answer, he bowed, spun around and began to walk away, but not before throwing over his shoulder, "Best of luck with your hunt today. Good day!"

Fíli and Kíli stood still until the merry tune of the stranger's whistling could no longer be heard echoing down the length of the hallway.

 

* * *

 

It was much later that Fíli – covered in grime and sweat, the exhilaration of the hunt coursing through his veins – had a sudden realization that he had quite forgotten to ask the strange Dwarf for his name. Again.

_Damn._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive, massive thanks goes to my beta kailthia for her hard work.  
> Her tumblr: http://kailthia.tumblr.com.

The nagging feeling of having forgotten something came crashing into Fíli as he and Kíli laid spread out on the green grass by the riverbank, exhausted from a day of hunting.

"Kíli?" the blond sat up suddenly, his eyes going wide with alarm. "What day is it today?"

"Hmph?" Kíli mumbled back from beside him. He was splayed out on his stomach half-asleep like a great big lazy cat lying in a patch of sunlight.

"Kíli, this is serious. What day is it?" Fíli leaned over and shook Kíli by the shoulder. When the archer didn't respond, he repeated the motion harder still. "Kíli!"

"It's the third, Fíli," Kíli groaned and rolled on to his back. He cracked open his left eye and stared fuzzily up at his brother, disgruntled. "Why? What is it?"

"Because," Fíli swallowed hard as realization dawned, "I think we are supposed to attend that really important dinner in a couple of hours, the one with all the Iron Hills lords."

A brief moment of silence passed.

"Oh," Kíli said finally, his voice very, very faint. "You mean the one where Uncle pulled us aside and explicitly told us to attend in our formal dress so that we don't look like 'uncouth ruffians who spent the day rolling in a hay stack?’"

Fíli and Kíli looked down simultaneously at their ragged, mud-splattered outfits as if noticing the state of their clothes for the first time. The bits of dried grass and leaves stuck on their persons did not help.

They winced. 

"I think we should – " Fíli jerked his head towards the direction where Erebor lay.

"Yes," Kíli said emphatically. His eyes were wide and his expression panicked. "We definitely,  _definitely_ should."

Without another word, the two lunged for their discarded supplies and sprinted towards their ponies, as if Smaug himself has returned to rain fiery hell over their heads once again.

* * *

 

"Cutting it close, boys," came Bilbo's unamused greeting three hours later when Fíli and Kíli finally deigned to make an appearance by the dining hall's entrance. The Hobbit tsked further as the two Dwarves all but collapsed against the stone wall beside him, their chests heaving from their mad dash across the palace from the royal wing. "Dare I ask what happened to you two?"

"We were out hunting and we – er – sortaforgotaboutdinner," Kíli mumbled the last part of his sentence without meeting Bilbo's eye. His palm was resting over his pounding heart, wrinkling the fine silk shirt under his hand.

For a Dwarf who cared very little in the way he presented himself, (and Fíli can more than testify about _that_ \- he spent his childhood chasing after his brother with a comb), Kíli cleaned up surprisingly well. Gone were the archer's wild, tangled locks and instead, his hair was neatly tied back in a series of intricate braids that proudly showcased his achievements as a warrior, his Durin bloodline, and his status as a young bachelor. Silver beads accented with gold shone brilliantly against the dark canvas of his chestnut hair, each of them etched with the young prince's personal sigil. His royal status was made all the more apparent from the fine silver coronet that rested above his brow and the unmistakable Durin blue of his outfit. His fur-trimmed velvet cloak, his jewel-lined belt, and his rings only added to the air of regality.

Fíli blinked back in surprise. The wild, rowdy youth whom he cherished was nowhere to be seen and in his place stood a  _prince_.

"What?" Kíli asked nervously in the silent, pregnant pause. "Is there something on my face?"

"No, no. It's nothing." Fíli cleared his throat and reached over to smooth out the wrinkle on his brother's shirt. "There," he said, smiling softly. His heart was bursting with so much pride and love for Kíli. "Perfect."

He brushed away the odd fluttering in his heart when Kíli smiled back sweetly.

"You both look wonderful. I'm certain that Thorin will have no complaints," Bilbo said just as he reached over to Fíli and straightened the collar of his red velvet cloak. Fíli patiently bore his attention, and wondered when he became so accustomed to Bilbo's fussing. "Now let's head in, shall we? I'm starving."

The moment Fíli and Kíli stepped through the entrance followed by Bilbo a few paces behind, an eerie hush immediately descended over the dining hall. One by one, the Dwarves, Men and Elves, each dressed in the finest, bowed to their presence. Fíli fought down the reflexive urge to turn around and bow back in greeting, as he would have done when he and Kíli were still living in the Blue Mountains. Customs were much more lax there, the lines between royalty and common-born more easily blurred in the common struggle against starvation. Life free from stifling court protocols had been simpler, and Fíli missed it dearly.

Fíli supposed that he would eventually find comfort in the routines of the Ereborean royal customs, or at the very least, he would become so numbed that he would cease to find them so jarringly different. For now, he fell back to what he learned in his years of etiquette lessons.

 _Chin up, eyes to the front, shoulders back and think of nothing but peaceful thoughts,_ Fíli silently repeated the mantra in his head, drawing comfort from the familiar words. With his gaze locked forward, he walked past the dining hall guests to reach to the high table at the end of the room, his steps slow but confident. No expenses were spared in decorating the long refectory table. Tall candelabras, heavily- jeweled and golden, sat like two glittering pillars at opposite ends. Multiple sets of polished, golden cutleries, plates, and crystal goblets were neatly laid out for each of the guest that will be seated. They sparkled in the warm glow of the flickering candles lighting the halls. Even the table cloth had a metallic sheen from the delicate gold thread woven into the fabric.

Fíli barely noticed all of this in his effort to retain his poise. He sat down in his designated seat to the right of Thorin's empty chair just as Kíli took his seat one chair away to the left of the King's. This was the first time since Erebor's restoration that Thorin held a formal feast as grand as this one and the heirs were given very lengthy, very thorough instructions by a harried Balin on where to sit, when to stand,  _how to breathe_...

A low murmuring began to fill the room as Fíli shook himself out of his thoughts and ignored the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on him. Instead, he focused his attention on Bilbo, who hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking his seat to Thorin's left.

Fíli coughed discreetly in his hand to disguise his laughter. It had taken a long time to convince the Hobbit that he could sit at the high table, let alone so close to the king. The matter was only resolved when Thorin himself pulled Bilbo aside and told him, with a teasing smirk on his face, that by royal decree, Bilbo Baggins shall sit at the king's left or so help him Mahal, Thorin will ban all salad from the dinner tables. Bilbo's answering look of horror was especially satisfying to watch.

"All rise for the King!"

The murmuring rose in a crescendo. Fíli rose from his seat to peer curiously at the entrance as his uncle swept into the hall. A flock of dark-haired, jovial looking Dwarves trailed behind the King in a great procession. Each of them were swathed in richly coloured velvets – deep shades of red, green, blue and, Fíli snorted in amusement, one brave Dwarf sported a particularly garish shade of yellow that reminded Fíli of the daffodils from Bilbo’s hobbit-hole. There was no mistaking that these Dwarves were from the Iron Hills, not when their kingdom's emblem was so proudly displayed on their belts, their pins, and their beads.  

"Majesty," Fíli greeted with a slight bow to Thorin when he made his way to his seat at the high table.

"Nephew," Thorin replied, the corners of his lips curled into the soft smile reserved for his family. He grasped Fíli's shoulders in both hands and lowered his head to touch his forehead against the blond's, Fíli's gold and silver coronet clinked lightly against Thorin's heavy crown.  

"I haven't seen you or your brother anywhere in the palace today. What kept you both so busy?" Thorin asked so quietly that none other could overhear. Despite having the eyes of the entire court on them, Fíli had never felt more comfortable now that he was in his uncle's presence.

"We went out hunting and we caught a few rabbits," Fíli replied. And because he enjoyed riling his uncle up as much as Kíli did, he added, "Uncle, has Bilbo tried your rabbit stew? Maybe you can ask him to join you for lunch and cook some for him." Fíli ignored his uncle's growing unimpressed look and continued with a straight face, "It will be just the two of you. Alone. In your personal quarters. Enjoying some quality time with each other."

He cocked his brow in the same knowing look that he has seen his mother give Thorin whenever she was right about something. Thorin's answering scowl felt like sweet, sweet victory.

"Impudent brat," the king growled out, "your suggestions are neither appreciated nor warranted." With a final harrumph, Thorin pointedly turned his back to his nephew to greet Bilbo and Kíli. Bilbo flushed a particularly fetching shade of pink after Thorin had whispered something in his ear.

One of these days, his uncle would finally stop dancing around the Hobbit and actually start courting him, at which point Fíli would make it his personal mission to tease the both of them relentlessly. It will be utterly glorious.

Snickering, Fíli turned to greet the Iron Hills guest beside him only to feel his laughter dying in his throat, because – "You!"

"Good day, Crown Prince Fíli! Fancy meeting you here!" the thrice-damned, strange Dwarf greeted him with an equally annoying little wave, and why, sweet merciful Creator, was he even doing at the  _high table_  of all places and  _is that a coronet on his head_?

"Fancy meeting me here? Wh-what are you doing here?!"

"Ah," the strange Dwarf stroked his beard and smirked, "and here comes that shining personality that I missed so much. Although I am infinitely pleased to see that you are, for once,  _not_  in a state of melancholy. By Durin's beard, you were even smiling. Well done!"

Fíli felt his cheeks flush at the mocking tone. "I smile when there is a reason to smile," he answered crossly. "It just so happens that as of late, I have been cursed by unwanted company." He pursed his lips and stared pointedly at the Dwarf.

To his surprise, the Dwarf only grinned wider. "Ah. There's that famous Durin fire. I was wondering when it would finally make its presence known. You might not be as boring as I have pegged you out to be!"

"And your ability to speak your mind continues to shock and amaze me," Fíli snapped before he could reign in his words. The odd Dwarf's words stung more than he would have liked. "I see that you are especially talented in the art of giving back-handed compliments."

"I do aim to please, my Prince," the other Dwarf drawled out with a lazy grin.

A heavy hand over his shoulder interrupted Fíli's retort. "Nephew," Thorin greeted and the blond looked over his shoulder to see his uncle's puzzled look. Fíli must look quite the unusual sight in his bristled state. "I see that I am a bit late in the introductions but allow me to introduce you to your cousin Thorin Stonehelm, son of Daín, son of Naín of the Iron Hills."

Wait...wait.

What?

Fíli stared at Thorin in confusion, whipped his head back towards the strange Dwarf, gaped at him a little, and turned back to his uncle again.

"What?" Fíli croaked out.

"Thorin Stonehelm, your cousin," Thorin repeated, perplexed. "I understand that it may come as a surprise." He inclined his head towards the strange Dwarf. "You will forgive me, young Master, for not introducing my nephew to you earlier. I trust that the past few days in Erebor have been comfortable?"

The Dwarf lowered his eyes and bowed in a perfect example of humility and grace. "You have been a most gracious host, your Majesty," Young Thorin murmured. "Rest assured, neither the Iron Hills Dwarves nor myself have had anything but a comfortable time in your kingdom."

Fíli gaped at him. Where was the cocky grin that was just there a few seconds ago? Where was the sarcasm? What just happened?

"Good," Thorin nodded, obviously pleased. "If you have any questions, my nephews will be more than happy to play host. Now, if you will excuse me." He nodded again in dismissal, and turned his attention back to Bilbo.

A few seconds of awkward silence descended between Fíli and his neighbour. Young Thorin – and Fíli was still reeling that the stranger was his cousin of all things – quickly wiped away his bashful expression with a growing, smug smirk.

"You're so silent, Prince Fíli! Has my introduction caused that much of a shock?"

"You're my cousin," Fíli muttered. He slowly sank into his seat without registering his actions. Just when he thought that this day could not become any stranger, it proved him wrong. "We are related. We are actually related."

"And I am just as equally excited by that prospect as you are," Young Thorin took his own seat and replied in false cheer. Then, his expression brightened and he poked his head over the table. "Good day,  _Cousin_  Kíli," he exclaimed loudly with a little gleeful wave.

Kíli's eyes widened in recognition and he spluttered in shock.

"Stop antagonizing him," Fíli growled in defense of his little brother. "What I want to know is why you've never introduced yourself when it was clear that neither Kíli nor I knew who you were."

Thorin blinked owlishly at the blond. "You never asked for my name."

Oh for the love of –  _really_? "That is not an excuse and you know it!"

Unfortunately, Fíli's conversation was cut short by the loud, enthusiastic cheer rising from the crowd as the heavy fragrant smell of cooked meat filled the air. Dwarves carrying platters of roasted chicken, venison, beef and pork marched down the hall, each new dish that they brought out growing more and more extravagant. The diners lost themselves to the great feast with gusto, but Fíli found himself chewing woodenly through his lavish dinner. Once in a while, he would throw suspicious side glances at Young Thorin.

By the fifth time he has done this, Thorin Stonehelm sighed and put down his fork. "If I apologize for not making my introduction to you sooner, would you stop staring at me and let me eat in peace?"

"Your offer is much appreciated, Lord Thorin," Fíli muttered tersely. He deliberately kept his eyes on his meal and continued his aggressive attempt to cut his venison into smaller portions. "However, that certainly does not begin to explain why you have been directing your attention to me or why you've taken such pleasure in it."

"Why, Cousin Fíli, I was simply trying to get to know you better," came the glib reply. "You can't blame a Dwarf for approaching another with caution, not when that Dwarf looked so unbelievably wretched. Speaking of which," Thorin peered curiously at Fíli. "I am downright curious as to why you continue to be in such a state. I thought your mood would improve from last night."

Fíli scoffed. "If you think that last night would improve my mood, you are grossly mistaken. Your concern about my state of happiness is noted, but I shall leave my thoughts to myself,  _thank you._ " He has taken some of Bilbo's lessons in passive-aggressiveness to heart when dealing in diplomacy. The Hobbit would be proud. "Also, you delight in seeing me suffer, don't try to deny it."

Thorin rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Oh, alright, but only a little. It's only because you look so unspeakably adorable when flustered. I could not resist the temptation."

Fíli stabbed his cubed venison with his fork in a particularly vicious motion that had Thorin flinch away in surprise. "Don't," he hissed out, low and dangerous. Fíli knew that he did not possess his uncle's striking dark appearance or Kíli's exotic good looks. If he was completely honest with himself, everything about his appearance was unusual from the gold in his hair to the slightness of his frame. The last thing he wanted was for his homeliness to be thrown back into his face by some mouthy, sarcastic, bastard pain in the ass of a Dwarf, cousin or not.

"I did not mean to offend you, my prince, and my comment was not made out of malicious intent," Thorin said in all seriousness, the playfulness gone from his voice. He must have seen something on Fíli's face to change his tone so suddenly. "I only meant to get to know you better from our previous encounters. Frankly speaking, you provide the much needed breath of fresh air from Lord Thrim's inane chattering or Lady Rindr and Lady Groa's collective obsession with dresses."

Fíli whipped his head towards Thorin with a sharp retort at the tip of his tongue to call out on his lie, but he paused at the Dwarf's sombre, contrite expression. The brunet seemed to be genuinely sorry and although he was aggravating, really, _really_ aggravating even, he reminded Fíli a bit of Kíli. The archer had been downright insufferable in his boredom when he was younger and had made a few beardlings cry on more than one occasion. Kíli usually meant no harm.

And Fíli could more than sympathize with wanting to get away from Lord Thrim's long winded ode to his love of locks.

Fíli sighed. "Alright, I understand. It's fine. It's all fine. Can we just forget about this?" the blond lowered his fork to pinch the bridge of his nose, already wishing for this conversation to be over. He always hated verbal altercations and would leave the name calling to Kíli. The archer was surprisingly creative when it came to that. "How about we start afresh? Fíli, son of Víli, Crown Prince of Erebor." He lowered his hand and inclined his head forward in greeting. Might as well forgive and forget. It wasn't in Fíli's nature to hold grudges anyway.

"Thorin Stonehelm, son of Lord Daín of the Iron Hills, at your service," the other Dwarf returned his greeting graciously, and Fíli watched, half-afraid, as the young Dwarf's mischievous smile start to bloom across his face again. "I have a feeling, Prince Fíli, that you and I will become great friends."

"Why do I feel like I will regret this?" Fíli groaned.

* * *

 

It wasn't until well after the feast that Fíli managed to see Kíli again. It was hard not to considering how Kíli had bodily pulled him behind a pillar as he was walking down the hall to his private chamber.

"Ow! Kíli! What are you doing?" Fíli rubbed at his aching arm with a grimace.

"Is it true?" Kíli interjected quickly, "Is that strange Dwarf really our cousin?"

"Yes, it's true, and Uncle has made it quite clear that we are to show him around Erebor for the next couple of weeks." Fíli glanced at his brother, who bit his lip and looked away suspiciously. "But clearly, that is not what you wanted to ask. What is it, Kíli? Come now, out with it." He pressed forward obnoxiously close and said in a sing-song voice, "Kíli, tell me. Tell me."

Kíli leaned away and scowled ferociously at Fíli's wheedling tone. "I just wanted to know what he said during dinner that's gotten you so angry. Stop that! You know I hate it when you use that voice."

Oh. "You saw that?" He continued at Kíli's answering shrug, "It was a misunderstanding. Our cousin has an odd sense of humour that I still haven't fully grasped yet. He is surprisingly less aggravating than I first thought he was." Fíli grinned and nudged his brother's shoulder. "Were you worried about me? You were, weren't you?"

"Well, excuse me for caring," Kíli grouched. He swatted his brother away from him. "I've never seen anyone managed to get you so unsettled before! It was strange!"

"It was stupid," the blond agreed. He took a step back from the archer and started to loosen his cloak, which had done nothing but weigh him down. He was more than sick of it. "I asked him why he felt the need to pester me, and he said that he enjoyed seeing me, and I quote, 'adorably flustered'. His words, not mine."    

A strange, strangled sound had Fíli look up from the shoulder clasp that he was trying to work loose. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something in my throat," Kíli coughed lightly into his fist. "That’s a strange thing to say. You don't suppose he meant that?" Kíli automatically reached over and brushed Fíli's hair away from the clasp.

"Doubt it. Cousin Thorin seems to like saying things that will get a rise out of people." Fíli cowed in triumph when the clasp snapped open, and the cloak fell to the ground in a soft thump. Groaning in relief, Fíli rolled his aching shoulders. "Your turn now. Let's take this heavy cloak off of you."

To his surprise, Kíli recoiled back and clutched on the end of his cloak protectively against his chest. "Wait, no! I need to keep this on until after I showed Miss Tauriel around the markets! I need to look nice!"

And just like that, Fíli's good humour fizzled away. "I forgot that you promised to show Miss Tauriel the night market," he said with what he hoped to be a convincing smile on his face. Honestly, why was he even upset? He had just spent a perfectly normal day with his brother, like the ones they shared so often back in the Blue Mountains. He should be happy that the day was ending on a high note and that Kíli was back to being his cheerful self. "I hope you enjoy yourself," the blond added more brightly. "Please refrain from making any jokes about your pants."

"Very funny, Fíli. Miss Tauriel and I will have a great time, just you wait and see." The archer clapped a hand over his brother's shoulder before heading down the hall. "I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast!"

Fíli waved at Kíli's retreating figure, growing more and more relieved. It seemed like whatever it was that was going on between himself and Kíli was just temporary. His brother clearly needed the time and personal space to work through his problems and now that he had done so, everything was starting to go back to normal. Still, it would have been nice to know what was wrong with his brother in the first place for him to be acting so strangely.

It would also be nice to go  _one_  day without being reminded of the Elves, but if that was the price that Fíli had to pay to see his brother smiling again, then so be it.

Humming to himself, Fíli bent over to pick up his discarded cloak, dusted off the heavy fabric, and draped it over his forearm. Perhaps he could see if Kíli was interested in visiting some of the other Company members tomorrow after lunch. He hasn't spoken to Ori in a while.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Fíli turned in time to see Young Thorin strolling towards him. Funny, had he always had that strut?

"Crown Prince Fíli!" the Iron Hills Dwarf cried enthusiastically, "I'm so pleased to have found you! I see that you are smiling again. Most excellent!"

"Lord Thorin," Fíli returned, bemused and sounding only half-exasperated this time. "We just saw each other a few scant hours ago. Not much has changed since then." He cocked his head in curiosity. "Is there something that I could help you with?"

"Yes! There is! But we must discuss this somewhere less public than in the hallway. Where can we go?" Without waiting for an answer, Thorin grabbed Fíli's arm and led him down the hallway. "Come now, no time to dally! I just remembered that I had wanted to speak with you since this morning about an important matter, but the thought had completely slipped my mind until now! Silly me! And since we are the greatest of friends now – "

"We just became acquainted!" Fíli laughed, but he allowed himself to be dragged along by the other Dwarf now that his curiosity was piqued. This was probably a terrible idea - goodness knows what sorts of insanity Young Thorin has up his sleeves.

" – it certainly will make this, ah –  _conversation_  much easier to deliver!" Thorin carried on obliviously. He ushered Fíli into an empty room, pausing only to check his surroundings for other people before reaching for the heavy set of wooden doors. The moment they closed behind him, he dropped his playful façade.

"Listen, Prince Fíli," he whispered, low and serious. Fíli felt his grin slip off his face and he swallowed heavily in response. "Last night's dinner was just a taste of what's to come. Things will definitely become more hectic when the next batch of Iron Hills nobles arrive."

"I – I don't think I understand," Fíli shook his head. "More Dwarves are coming?"

"Yes. The word about King Thorin and his affection towards Master Baggins has already been spread so the Dwarves know better than to try their chances with the King."

"Try their chances? But what has this got anything to do with last night and – " Fíli's eyes widened. An icy chill began to spread up his spine as realization, and the beginning of what felt like mild horror, slowly dawned on him. He turned his panicked-filled eyes to Thorin. "No."

"Yes." Thorin replied, his voice full of pity. "The word is out, Cousin. You have now become the single most eligible bachelor among the Dwarves. Simply put, you are officially being hunted. If I were you, I would come up with a plan, fast, before the vultures descend on Erebor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And I'm bacckkkk! Man, I miss writing these although I promise that this one will not be as lengthy as the ones I've written for my other fics. HA! First off, many thanks to all of you who've read, reviewed, favourited, bookmarked, kudosed and etc. I know that there is a good number of you who is taking a leap of faith with this fic even when this pairing is not your OTP. Your support is astounding and I cannot wish for better readers. Massive, massive hugs and kisses to you all and to all those who are willing to put up with my slow ass writing. Love you! 
> 
>  
> 
> [1] Many, many thanks to all those who are incredibly enthusiastic about the previously unnamed strange Dwarf being Thorin Stonehelm. You have asked and you shall receive. 
> 
> [2] Thorin Stonehelm is younger than Kili by a few years according to canon. For this fic, I'm making him older than Kili, younger than Fili, and twice as cocky and aggravating as the both of them put together. Because of reasons. 
> 
> (The reason is I like writing dickish characters. :P) 
> 
> [3] As you have already guessed, this fic is mostly Fili-centric, which will be a first for me. I am eager to play around with this character and I hope that the shenanigans I put him through will be to your liking. Mark my words, there will be shenanigans!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello m'dears! First off, many apologies for the delay (see end notes for further explanations). For now, please enjoy. 
> 
> Beta-ed by kailthia, whom I'll never stop thanking for her help. THANK YOU! :D  
> Her tumblr: http://kailthia.tumblr.com/

Like any Dwarf faced with the possibility of inevitable, unspeakable horror facing his way, Fíli reacted the way any of his brethren would – he immediately went into deep-seated denial.

“That’s ridiculous, Thorin,” Fíli chuckled nervously. He shuffled a little in place, looking down at his boots to avoid making horrible, awkward eye contact. “Why would anyone be interested in me?”

“I am not certain if you are aware, Cousin Fíli, but you are the Prince of what is possibly the richest Dwarven Kingdom in Middle-Earth,” Young Thorin drawled, raising an incredulous brow. “Not to mention that the stories of your contribution during the journey to reclaim Erebor and during the battle have greatly added to your allure. Any Dwarf would be a fool not to be attracted.”

“Wait,” Fíli whipped his head up. “What do you mean, _stories_?”

“Stories about you, Cousin!” Thorin threw his hands up in the air, “Oh for goodness’ sake – your actions, along with the Dwarves in King Thorin’s Company, were most exemplary. In fact, they were so exemplary that the bards have had the most extraordinary time weaving them into sonnets, songs, and poems…” he trailed off when he noticed Fíli’s confused daze had morphed into a look of mild panic. “You mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that you had no idea, absolutely zero idea that any of this was going on?”

“I – uh –” Fíli stammered.

Thorin broke into a large mischievous grin and he began to chortle, “Ohoh, this is too rich! All this time, you were completely unaware of what was being said! This needs to be _rectified.”_

“Oh, sweet merciful Mahal,” muttered Fíli as he buried his face in his hands. He was already regretting this conversation. Deeply. “Can we, can we possibly _not_?”

“Among the Dwarves in Thorin Oakenshield’s Company,” Young Thorin began to narrate loudly. Fíli cannot help but notice that the brunet was sounding entirely way too well-practiced for his liking. “Prince Fíli the Golden, Heir to Erebor, has shone bright through his acts of bravery, despite his youth. During the great Battle for Erebor, the Prince never wavered in his conviction to defend his king, his kin and his home. He was surrounded on all sides by the dark, swarming masses of putrefied evil that are the Orcs and Goblins. Any being would have seen the bleak situation and fled. The Golden Prince, however, did not. Onwards he charged, cutting through legions of his enemies with his twin blades, his blows swift and ferocious as a hunting lion of Harad.” 

Thorin started to pace, his voice rising with excitement. “The Battle was growing more hopeless by the minute. Azog’s allies had managed to scale over Erebor, effectively trapping the heroes in the south valley. From their perch high above the battleground one word, they launched all manners of detritus – arrows, knives, great big boulders – anything that can skewer, maim, and kill the unfortunate souls in the valley below. However, this new development did not faze the Golden Prince! He continued his relentless slaughter of the Orcs and Goblins, for any enemy who dared to harm his King and his home does not deserve mercy.”  

The brunet made slashing motions, mimicking the fight. Fíli took a step back to avoid getting hit, but with every word out of Young Thorin’s lips came the flashing images of the Battle. This was wrong, this was _all wrong_.

“The battle raged on for _hours_ , but when the dust had finally settled in the blood-soaked valley, the Golden Prince remained standing, ever guarding his king. He was battle-worn and weary, but his spirit was unbroken and he was undefeated.”

Thorin stood still and gestured to the silent blond, “So, you see, cousin, this is why you have garnered the adoration of the Dwarves in Middle-Earth. That was only a small taste of the many tales sung in your name.” He shrugged and added, “Personally, my favourite was the bit at the Goblin Cave. Exciting stuff!”

“Those tales,” Fíli said, quiet and dangerous, “are nothing but lies.” The blond was expecting humiliation but nothing like this, nothing like the sheer level of _falsehood_ that painted him as some sort of a great hero.

How dare they? How dare they twist his actions into something great when they were nothing of the sort? And how dare they throw their lies back into his face, as if he would be _proud_ of his actions?

He took a step forward and he was shaking, he was so angry that he was shaking, “We were surrounded – ”

_By the screams of the dying, some going  down clawing at their throats and choking in their own blood._

“And we were trapped in the valley with hordes of advancing Orcs with no way out and nowhere to move but forward.”

_The heavy press of stinking bodies threatened to suffocate him, but he needed to find Uncle. He needed to find Kíli._

“So I did what I could to move forward, to get to the King.”

 _He hacked gracelessly at his foes, his motions automatic from the decades of training with Dwalin. The familiar movement was the only thing keeping him from breaking down into a state of complete panic._ He could hear the sound of his own racing heartbeat pounding into his chest over the dying gurgles of the Orc he had just slain. _Where was Kíli? Where was Uncle?_

“I got close. I could see Uncle fighting against two foes. I killed anyone around him who dared to attack him when his back was turned.”

_Goblins and Orcs with spears and swords, all jeering at the possibility of drawing blood from the great Thorin Oakenshield. Their excitement was disgusting and Fíli would be damned if he let any of those things touch his Uncle. That was the closest he had gotten to taking pleasure out of ending a life._

“And then I – ”

_A familiar cry of pain caught his attention. He whirled around in time to see Kíli stagger a few steps, his balance wavering. An Orcish arrow, black and crooked, had found its mark in his brother’s chest._

_No. Nononono._

“And then I –”

_Kíli crumbled to the floor, his face frozen in shock, and all Fíli could do was stare in horror. This was his brother, his baby brother who meant more than the moon, the sun, the world to him and he was – he was –_

“Kíli got hurt and I tried to – I got distracted.”

_Before he knew it, he charged, cleaving the Orcs surrounding his brother. He needed to get to Kíli, he needed to protect his brother. He had promised!_

“I didn’t notice my attacker until I was too late.”

_Dimly, he heard a voice shouting his name (Fíli! Fíli!) desperately, but he ignored the warnings, not until he saw from the corner of his eyes, a flash of metal swinging towards him. Suddenly, he was tackled hard to the ground and a familiar, heavy weight (Uncle Thorin?) was pressing painfully against his bruised chest._

“Uncle saved me.”

_The sick, wet sound of blade entering flesh followed by his uncle’s pained gasp was something that he was going to remember for a very long time._

A moment of tense silence filled the room. Fíli, who had taken that first brazen step forward, felt himself deflate as the rush of anger leave him. And now, his cousin Thorin knows the true story of just how much Fíli had failed that day.

“I do not presume to know how you perceived your actions in battle, Cousin Fíli,” came Young Thorin’s tentative response. The brunet slowly moved closer to Fíli and placed both hands over the prince’s shoulder. “What I do know is that the Battle was one stacked heavily against you. It was a battle where the Dwarves had very little chances of survival. You knew that, going into the battle, and so did the rest of the Company, but despite the knowledge, you still chose to fight, not for yourself, but for your king, your kin and a future home for all Dwarves.”

Thorin shook his head, “Whether you believe me or not, that is bravery. You fought for the better good, and you won. I cannot imagine anything more worthy of praise, and neither do any other Dwarves.”

Fíli scoffed in a self-deprecate manner. “Unfortunately for me, that is the root of my problems. It’s because everyone else thinks like you do that I have this potential suitor problem, if what you are telling me is true.”

“Aye,” Thorin nodded and slowly let go of Fíli. He cocked his head, “May I ask how you would respond to this problem if it does arise?”

Fíli shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea.” Nonetheless, Fíli welcomed the question. If anything, it served as a distraction from his dark thoughts. “Hmm, I will most likely make myself scarce through whichever means possible. Maybe I’ll spend more time on paperwork?” Goodness knows Uncle needed all the help he could get even if the old Dwarf was too stubborn and proud to relinquish any of his responsibilities to others. “Or maybe, I could hide somewhere. The gardens? The libraries?”

Thorin pursed his lips in obvious dissatisfaction. “I thought as much,” he muttered under his breath. He added louder, “May I suggest another solution? I believe I have a strategy that could nip the problem at the bud.”

* * *

 

“No, absolutely not! I refuse to take part in this…this web of lies!”

“It is hardly a web of lies, Cousin. More like a…single, perpetual lie that extends throughout the month-long celebration – ”

“ _That is not any better!_ ”

* * *

 

Fíli spent the night tossing and turning in bed. Between his memories from the battle and his cousin’s words of warning, Fíli could not let his thoughts stay silent for long enough for him to doze off. At some point during the night, he got so desperate that he tried implementing every trick he had learned to fall asleep. Counting sheep did nothing but bore him (unfortunately, not enough to put him to sleep), and a warm glass of milk, while pleasant, did nothing but provide him with a nice snack. Finally, when the golden tendrils of the sun’s rays came creeping through his window and streaked across his bedchambers’ stone walls, Fíli threw his covers away in frustration and disgust.

Slowly, he shuffled to the breakfast room that adjoined his and Kíli’s room, and he collapsed into his seat in a graceless sprawl. It was too early for breakfast and, by default, too early to expect Kíli’s presence. While Fíli was itching to speak to his brother, he was not cruel enough to drag the brunet out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, just because Fíli wanted someone to hear him whine.

 _I’ll tell him when he gets here_ , Fíli thought fuzzily. Yawning, he rested his head in the cradle of his arms on the table top. Kíli had acted as Fíli’s confidant ever since he was little. Even though Kíli had effectively hidden himself in his bedchambers after the battle, Fíli had no doubt that his brother would be there when he needed him. Kíli has always been.

_Kíli will probably laugh at this suitor problem, it’s pretty ridiculous._

“Fíli?”

A nudge to his shoulder sent Fíli jerking up with a snort. He quickly looked around him with blurred eyes. “Whargh?”

Kíli’s face slowly swam into view. “Fíli?” Kíli asked again, his amusement apparent. “What are you doing out here sleeping on the table? You should be in bed!”

“I couldn’t sleep there,” Fíli mumbled as he wiped the line of drool from the corner of his mouth. Urgh. “Had a terrible night, couldn’t keep my thoughts quiet and I…” he trailed off once he registered the sight in front of him, “Kíli, what are you doing in yesterday’s clothing?”

Kíli’s clothes from yesterday’s feast has seen better days; the pristine Durin-blue outfit was heavily wrinkled, splattered in mud, and on the pant legs, stained green from grass. Kíli’s formerly neat hair was a tangled, matted mess. Even his silver coronet lay crooked across his brow.

Not like his little brother felt any smidgen of shame, though. The large beaming smile on his face was telling enough.

“I spent the night stargazing with Tauriel!” he began in a rush. “Did you know that the Elves have their own constellations? And the stories that went with them! Tauriel seems to know them all!”

“Oh, that’s…uhm, nice,” Fíli offered, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease from unfurling in his stomach. Again with the Elf, and how amazing she is. What Fíli would do to go one day without hearing his brother rain more praises on the ever-perfect Elven captain. “What happened to addressing her as ‘Miss Tauriel’ that you seem so fond of doing?”

Kíli blushed. The feeling of unease darkened into something more poignant. “She told me that I could address her by her first name,” he mumbled. His eyes widened in sudden realization, “Unless she was just saying that to be polite and I was stupid enough to take what she was saying at face value! Arrgh!” He buried his face in his hands. “Why am I so bad at talking to girls?” he groaned hopelessly.

A small part of Fíli was tempted to say something that could separate his brother from that Elf, and it would’ve have been so, so _easy_. He could suggest to Kíli that a little time apart from the Elf would give her some time to forgive him, or he could offer to distract his brother with a trip to the tavern to help drown out his embarrassment. 

One look at his brother’s misery and Fíli felt the words die on his tongue. Damn it.

“She’s not offended, don’t be an idiot,” Fíli said instead, if not a bit grumpily. “Miss Tauriel seems the type who will be upfront in telling someone that he said something annoying to her.” Seeing Kíli perking up, Fíli added with a grumble, “You’re doing fine. Just fine.”

Right. That was more than enough that Fíli wanted to say about this subject. Every time he even heard anyone mention Tauriel, that same dark feeling of intense dislike would flare up. Best avoid that topic altogether.

“You must be hungry,” Fíli offered. He absentmindedly ran his hand into his hair and grimaced when his fingers snagged a tangle. What a mess. “I can order us some breakfast after I tame this bed head, and it will give you some time to clean up a bit. I have something to tell you as well.”

“Oh, um, sorry Fíli,” Kíli apologized sheepishly and with a little shrug, “Can this wait? I’m busy at the moment. I promised Tauriel that I would spend the day with her.”

The archer began stripping the fineries off of his tunic, tossing each piece on the table. “She’s waiting to take me somewhere, wouldn’t tell me where though.” He nonchalantly unclipped the cape from his back, not caring about the dried flecks of dirt and grass that rained on to the floor. “I’m just here to find my hunting knife. I think I left it here the other day. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Fíli said as the archer removed his coronet, dumped it on the table with the rest of his trinket, and strode to the nearest couch to search for his lost knife. “But what about breakfast?”

It remained an unspoken rule between the two brothers to share breakfast with each other. Even when Kíli was in his state of deep melancholy during his recovery after the battle –

_Go away, Fíli! I don’t need you here!_

_Damn it, Kíli! You can barely move your arms. Shut up and let me help you, I’m not going anywhere!_

They had stayed true to that one tradition.

“I’ll figure something out for breakfast. Maybe I’ll stop by the kitchen and grab something for Tauriel as well,” came Kíli’s muffled voice at the back of the room. “Aha! There it is!” He pulled his hunting knife from under a pillow and brandished it in the air. “Everything seems to be in order.” He nodded to his brother, “Well, I’m off then. We’ll talk later, alright? Get some sleep, Fíli!”

With a parting clap to Fíli’s shoulder, Kíli strode out of the room with a spring to his step before the blond could even respond.

* * *

 

“It’s as if he’s trying to avoid me!” Fíli complained bitterly from his slumped position over the wooden library table. “I don’t understand, Ori! He’s been behaving so oddly!” He batted at the pile of scrolls in front of him. The sound of them scattering across the table brought a thrill of satisfaction up his spine.

It's been three days since Fíli had his chat with Kíli, and during that time, he barely got to see his brother at all. Kíli would leave their apartments first thing in the morning before breakfast, reappear for any meetings that Uncle had requested his attendance for, only to disappear immediately afterwards. The only times Fíli got to speak to his brother was during the meeting recesses and during dinner time. However, Fíli’s duty as the Crown Prince meant that he spent his recesses greeting the Iron Hills ambassadors. At dinner, Fíli was seated at the high table between the two Thorin’s and could only really converse with those two.

Great. Just _great_.

“Stop that!” Ori rushed over the table, gathering the scrolls and holding them protectively to his chest. “I just organized these the way I wanted them!”

“I doubt it,” Fíli propped his chin up with one hand to stare disbelievingly at his friend. “I watched you spent the last twenty minutes reorganizing that same pile of scrolls four times. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just helping with your reorganization efforts.”

“Your lies are neither believable nor appreciated,” Ori harrumphed, turning on his heels and marching resolutely to a nearby shelf to deposit his precious cargo. It was probably for the best that he didn’t see Fíli’s mischievous grin. “You’re just as useful as that group of ‘helpers’ the King assigned to me.”

“Speaking of which, where are they?” Fíli leaned back until he was balancing on the back legs of his chair. It was a childish habit that his mother had chastised him for years, but every now and then, he would find himself lapsing. “I haven’t seen anyone in the library except you and me.”

Ori passed behind Fíli, but not before deftly smacking the back of his head. Fíli yelped and righted his chair before he could fall. “I sent them away,” Ori said simply as he grabbed another armful of scrolls. “They were terrible at organizing things. They were stacking agricultural manuals with taxation reports!” Ori placed the scrolls in the proper shelves with more force than strictly necessary. “How?” he cried, “How would anyone with common sense do something like that?”

“Uh huh,” Fíli nodded along. Whenever Ori got into this state of righteous fury, it was best just to go along with it. “What else did they do?”

“Only half of them would work, and they would do a shoddy job of it.” Ori whirled around and gestured at a ramshackle shelf to his right, “I had to redo all the work that they did over at that shelf. At this rate, I might as well do the job properly from the get-go!”

The scholar pulled a stool beside Fíli and sat down. “Those who weren’t working would stand around and stare at me! It’s unnerving.”

“Who could blame them? They’ve never seen a Ri up close and personal before,” Fíli said teasingly. Ori scowled.

The brothers Ri were well known to be some of the most stunning dwarves among the Long Beards on this side of Middle-Earth.Their prominent facial features, their stoutness, and their intricately designed braids have stolen the hearts of many back in Ered Luin. In fact, their beauty was said to be second only to Glóin’s Firebeard wife.

Once upon a time, when Fíli was much younger and, admittedly, much more foolish, he had toyed with the idea of courting Ori. He was almost certain that his Uncle would not have objected to the match even if the Ris were not of royal birth. Fíli had refrained from taking action, though. Maybe it was his inner desire to find his One that stilled his hand. Alternatively, it could be the healthy dose of fear for Dori and Ori’s legions of admirers.

Whatever the reason, Fíli was infinitely glad for his inaction. He couldn’t imagine having Ori as a close friend otherwise.

“Haha, very funny,” Ori nudged Fíli playfully on the shoulder. “Enough about me, what was it you wanted to say about Kíli?”

Fíli’s good mood fled instantly. “Kíli has been spending all of his time with that she-Elf captain,” the blond said sullenly. “We haven’t had breakfast together for three days now. You know how he feels about breakfast!”

“With an unholy, all-encompassing love and obsession,” Ori responded drily. “So Kíli’s been spending time with Miss Tauriel and you don’t like it. Why?”

“Because the way he’s behaving doesn’t make any _sense_!” Fíli exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You remember how he was like before the celebrations. He was antisocial, he refused to leave his room, and he wouldn’t let anyone visit him without putting up a fight! Not Bilbo, not Uncle, not –”

He left the ‘me’ unspoken, but judging from Ori’s pitying gaze, the scholar had understood.

“And suddenly, Tauriel makes her appearance and Kíli becomes a different person! He’s practically fleeing his room just so he could spend every second of the day with her!” Fíli shook his head, frustrated, “He’s acting as if everything is normal now and he isn’t telling me anything.”

“Why don’t you just ask him what’s wrong?”

“I can’t, Ori.” Fíli shook his head again. He slumped back onto the desk and mumbled, “Have you seen how happy he is now? I don’t want to bring anything up that would ruin that, not when he’s been miserable for so long.”

Fíli heard Ori sigh, before being gently coaxed into a hug by a pair of warm arms. The blond happily accepted by latching on to the scholar and nuzzling into his friend’s soft scarf. Ori was the best.

“I can relate to Kíli, you know.” Ori spoke softly, “As a younger sibling, that is.”

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes, Dori and Nori can be a bit too much and I need some time to myself to work out my own issues. And sometimes, I need a bit of fresh perspective from someone who’s not that close to me.”

Fíli grumbled unhappily, “So you’re saying that Uncle and I are coddling Kíli too much, and he’s run off to someone else who won’t treat him the same way?”

“Maybe?” Fíli could hear the laughter in Ori’s voice. “Have you been coddling Kíli too much?”

“I don’t know!” Maybe Fíli had been smothering Kíli a little too much during his recovery. “He scared me. I saw the arrow go through, and it scared me.”

Fíli felt Ori tightened his hold. “I know, it scared me too. But he’s alright now, and you can stop worrying about his health. I think he just needs a little time to himself. Once he has a chance to work through his problems on his own, he’ll come back, you’ll see.”

“I hope so,” Fíli said, already feeling cheered by the prospect. Ori really was the best.

* * *

 

It dawned on Fíli that he may have neglected to tell Ori about his potential suitor-problem as he stared at the little package sitting on the floor by the door to his private chambers.

“Oh well,” he muttered, bending down nonchalantly to pick it up. It had been a week, and this was the first sign that anyone was showing interest in him. Maybe Cousin Thorin was blowing this whole suitor problem out of proportion.

* * *

 

He felt significantly less optimistic the next morning, when he found three new packages sitting by his doorstep.

* * *

 

“As per yesterday’s meeting, Lord Dáin II of the Iron Hills would like to offer the following terms for the new trade and sales agreement between the Iron Hills and Erebor: 3000 tonnes of steel, and 2000 tonnes of raw iron for the price of – ”

Fíli stifled a yawn for the umpteenth time that afternoon as he let Lord Thrim’s words fade into the background. The meeting between the ambassadors from the Iron Hills and Erebor had dragged on for _hours_ , and if Fíli’s observations were correct, the sheer dryness of it all was slowly sapping all of the attendees’ will to live. From across the table, Kíli was obviously nodding off, his head sinking lower and lower towards the table. He jerked awake whenever Dwalin, who was standing guard behind him, unsubtly kicked the back legs of his chair.

Snickering quietly to himself, Fíli turned to his uncle seated to his left. From an outsider’s point of view, King Thorin looked as regal and attentive as always with his straight posture and his sharp, unwavering gaze on the speaker. Fíli, however, knows his uncle well, and could see the subtle signs that speak otherwise. For one, the blond could hear the occasional soft sighs coming from the King, and for another, Fíli could see the increasing speed in which his uncle was drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. 

_Uncle is possibly more annoyed and bored by the proceedings than anyone else in the room. He’s just much better at disguising it._

“Perhaps a small recess would be good,” Balin ( _sweet, merciful Balin_ ) spoke up when Lord Thrim finished his speech. “With your permission of course, your Majesty?”

At Thorin’s nod, the room broke out into excited chatter as if life had immediately returned to all of the Dwarves.

“Well, that was certainly an exciting process,” Thorin Stonehelm sidled up to Fíli and said as a greeting. “Lord Thrim certainly knows how to make a rousing speech that captures the audience. He’s a fantastic speaker, that one!”

Fíli chuckled. “Hello Cousin,” he said, “if it makes you feel any better, we only need to stay here for another hour or so. Afterwards, we can all move on to doing something grander and more exciting, like watching the grass grow.”

“At least that involves being outside, with the fresh breeze blowing in your hair, and the sun warming your skin. What’s not to love about that?” Young Thorin grinned cheekily. “On the subject of interesting things, how goes your suitor problem?”

“That was a terrible segue, and a lazy attempt at gossip,” Fíli crossed his arms and sent a judgmental look towards the other Dwarf. “I am mildly embarrassed for you.”

“And you are trying to distract me from the real issue at hand, but I will not be so easily tricked!” Young Thorin only grinned wider. Fíli wondered if he ever felt a smidgeon of shame. Somehow, he doubted it. “Now, confess. Are you, or are you not, currently buried in love letters and presents yet?”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but your prediction was wrong.” That was a lie; he was not sorry at all. “And I’ll have you know, if I do receive a present, I have every intention of sending it back to the sender.” At least, this was what he _planned_ on doing once he could figure out who the personal sigils on his presents belonged to. Why couldn’t the Dwarves just write their names legibly on a card or something?

“Well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable yet, Cousin! I know on good authority that there will be a storm coming; a storm of romance to tear down the icy walls of your heart.” Thorin winked saucily.

Fíli cringed. “I didn’t think it was possible,” he said, disgusted, “but your metaphors are literally worse than your pitiful segue attempt. Also, on whose authority did you get this information from?”

“Oh, various peoples’,” the brunet gestured vaguely into the air. “Let’s just say that my Iron Hills brethren like to gossip, but never you mind! I shall let you know if there are any new developments. Until then, good day, Cousin Fíli.” He raised his voice and added, “And a good day to you as well, Cousin Kíli!”

Fíli looked over his shoulder and saw Kíli strolling towards them, scowling, before turning back to a rapidly retreating Thorin. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you never answered my question!”

“What question?” Kíli asked once he reached his brother’s side. “What did he want with you now?”

“He wanted –” Fíli stopped mid-sentence as Ori’s words from the previous evening came flooding back. Kíli already has his own issues to deal with. What good would it do for Fíli to throw _his_ problems at his brother as well? The last thing he wanted was to increase Kíli’s burden, especially if this suitor problem wasn’t even so much of a problem but a minor inconvenience.

“He wanted to bother me, because he’s a bit of a prat,” Fíli heard himself respond automatically instead. “How are you doing?”

Kíli still looked a bit suspicious, but he didn’t question any further. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m doing alright. Been spending my time outside with Tauriel, mostly.” He shifted his weight a little and mumbled, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Fíli tampered down the sudden flare of bitterness. “No, no, it’s – uh – it’s great, Kíli.” He forced himself to beam widely. Kíli needed his support and Fíli wasn’t going to deny him that, his petty feelings be damned. “I’m glad she’s keeping you happy." Fíli lowered his voice and added, more gently but his tone earnest, “Take as long as you need, alright? I don’t mind, and no one else does, either."

For a second there, Kíli looked back at Fíli with wide-eyed shock, but his surprise quickly transformed into relief, and the tension drained out of the archer’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Fíli,” the brunet choked out. He gave Fíli a watery smile.

Huh. Guess Ori was right about Kíli after all.

* * *

 

Destiny was out to ruin Fíli’s good mood.

Or at least, the blond felt that this was true when he found four new, silk-wrapped presents piled against the door of his private chambers.

He was able to refrain his loud cursing until he had fully closed the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many, many thanks for all of your support. I understand that I am taking a risk with this Fili/Kili pairing but thank you so much for those who are willing to chance it even if this is not your thing. As to the readers who are new to my writing, I hope you will find it enjoyable. As always, I love to hear back from all of you and I appreciate every review, comment, kudos, favourite, bookmark, or whatever. :) 
> 
> Apologies again for the delay. RL has really taken the toll on me (those of you following my tumblr have probably heard your fair share of my whining, haha). 
> 
> The original Chapter 3 that I've written stood at 10k words and was ready to be posted last week. Unfortunately, my computer decided to die a horrible death then. The current Chapter 3 is the result of me rewriting the whole thing from scratch. I also decided to shorten it for the sake of improving the flow of the story telling. Personally, I like the current version more than the work I've lost, so at least there's that silver lining there. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I may be slow at updating but I do promise you that this fic will be finished. You can at least have faith in me for that. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-ed by the wonderful kailthia (kailthia.tumblr.com) and ceallaig (ceallaig1.tumblr.com). Thank you for all your hard work, ladies!

“Oh, wow,” Ori breathed, wide-eyed and a little speechless at the towering mound of presents in Fíli’s room, “this is…rather impressive.”

Ori slowly paced around the pile, stopping occasionally to poke at a random package with the curiosity of an insatiable toddler. “How did you gather so many suitors in so little time?”

At the corner of the room, Fíli sat defeated, back hunched and face buried in his hands. He grunted something that was unmistakably a curse. It would have been more impressive if he didn’t look so wretchedly dejected.

“Oh look,” Ori leaned over and flipped the tags attached to a bright red present. “This one looks like it’s from Lord Thrim! You can tell it’s his sigil - it looks like a little padlock.” His amusement died quickly. “Lord Thrim?” his lips twisted in mild disgust. “He’s got to be at least a full century and a half older than you! What sort of vile, dirty, old Dwarf will cradle-rob – ”

Fíli’s muffled groan cut through Ori’s rant and the scholar clapped his hands over his mouth to stop himself from finishing that damning sentence.

“Sorry, Fíli.” Ori slowly lowered his hands and flushed in embarrassment. Dori had often yelled at him for his habit of speaking without thinking. On more than one occasion, he had accidentally upset Dori’s tea-shop patrons for being too blunt with his comments.

Clearly, that was the last thing Fíli needed at the moment. Ori could also understand the young prince’s current predicament, having had to reject many suitors himself back when they were in the Blue Mountains.

“So…” Ori started, much more gently this time, “Is this what you need my help for?”

Fíli nodded from his corner of misery. Ori didn’t think it was possible but Fíli drooped even further and looked even more wretched than before.

“And what can I do to help?” Ori trudged over to Fíli with slow, cautious steps, pulling up a chair beside the prince before making himself comfortable on the cushioned seat. He gingerly leaned over, patting his friend on the back.

“I just want to get rid of these damned things!” Fíli cried. He straightened enough to vaguely gesture at the towering stack of gifts. Ori leaned away to avoid getting hit in the face. “I’ve started sending some of them back, but new ones keep flooding into the room and…and,” he reburied his face into his hands. “Why does everyone sign their wretched packages with their personal sigils? I can only recognize a quarter of them! I can’t possibly send back the presents if I don’t know who the sender is!”

Ah, Dwarven custom at its finest. Ori wasn’t sure why tradition dictated the Dwarves to present their courting presents in such a secretive manner. The shy, almost hesitant way the gifts were left in front of Fíli’s doorstep was very much at odds with the bold and proud nature of the Dwarven people. 

If only Fíli’s suitors were as daring as King Thorin, Ori thought a little wistfully as he scooted his seat closer to wrap an arm around his friend. Thorin was fast earning a reputation for being a progressive king, and for being startlingly different from his Grandfather. In his brief reign, Thorin had discarded most of Erebor’s strict court etiquettes, leaving a handful in place for the odd special event or banquet.  Naturally, King Thorin’s actions were very popular among the young and the less traditionally inclined.

But the bold way in which the King had presented his courting presents to Bilbo had even left Thorin’s most staunch supporters in shock. After all, there had been no Dwarven King who had given his present – a new set of translated Dwarven poetry, of all absurd, un-Dwarfish things to give away – to a Hobbit in full view of the court and possibly half the kingdom. 

“And why shouldn’t I present my gifts in public?” Thorin had said when his moves were questioned by a balding and particularly stupid advisor. “I am not ashamed of my Chosen, nor of my feelings towards him. Let the Kingdom and the world witness the love and respect I hold for Bilbo.”

Bilbo had, predictably, flushed a bright red, but the pleased grin on his face had stretched from ear to ear. 

Ori had to admit that when King Thorin decided to hang the traditions, he did it with style. 

“Do you think we can get through this pile by Tuesday?” came Fíli’s timid question.

Ori chewed his lips thoughtfully and tightened his hold a little. “You’re probably going to need more help to sort through all of this before the big party, if that’s what you’re hinting at.” The scholar paused. Fíli was going to hate what he has to say next. “I also think that we may need to tell King Thorin about this.” 

Fíli pulled away from Ori and looked at him as if he were mad. “No, Ori! No! That is a terrible idea! I can’t tell Uncle about something as insignificant as this! He’ll think that I’m completely incompetent!” 

“He won’t think that, Fíli.”

“Yes, he will!” Fíli unexpectedly snapped, his face tight with anger. The bitterness in his tone had Ori momentarily taken aback. “It is bad enough that I failed him when he needed me the most! I couldn't defend him, I couldn’t defend Kíli, I couldn’t do anything! He had to turn his back towards his enemies so that he could save me –”

Fíli’s breath hitched and turned away from Ori. “I will not have it,” Fíli’s voice was trembling but a hint of steel laced his words. “I will not give him another excuse to be ashamed of me, Ori.” 

Ori would have laughed at the sheer incredulousness of that statement had it not been for the grave expression on his friend’s face. Ashamed? Of Fíli? Everyone in Erebor could see how patently untrue that was. Fíli had conducted himself in an exemplary manner as a Prince in exile aside from the rare instances where he was swayed into mischief, often than not by his brother. Although he could be naïve, and honest to a fault, (and, Ori noted wryly, lacking the level of craftiness that one cultivates from spending time in the royal court), Fíli’s friendly and easy-going nature consistently earned him a group of loyal friends. Not surprisingly, the prince was rather popular.

If only Fíli himself could see all of the positive qualities that others saw in him. If only Fíli could see the pride and the fierce, protective love shining in Thorin’s eyes whenever the King caught sight of him.

“He is not ashamed of you, Fíli!” said Ori with furrowed brows. He watched the anger bleed away from Fíli’s face, transforming instead into a deep-seated weariness,  and he felt a fresh surge of protectiveness humming through him. “You have done nothing wrong and everyone knows it. Thorin knows it. ”

“It certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve done nothing wrong,” Fíli mumbled quietly to the ground. He threw a quick, nervous glance at Ori. “Look Ori, I just – I know I’m being foolish but I want to be the one to take care of this. If I were to tell Uncle, he would swoop in and take charge of the situation.” 

Ori sighed and shook his head sadly. “You’re not foolish and I know that you want to solve this problem on your own, but what if Thorin finds out? You do realize that with so many gifts being sent to your room, it’s inevitable that your Uncle will know about this?”

From the way Fíli’s back had stiffened, Ori could guess that Fíli hadn’t planned that far ahead yet.

“Can’t I just…let him find out on his own?” Fíli hedged even as he winced at his own terrible idea.

“I’d imagine that Thorin would be even more upset that he had to find out through a secondary source rather than from you.” Ori hummed a little in thought, “Maybe…you can get away without telling him that you’re having problems. You can tell Thorin that you are receiving gifts from suitors and that you have taken steps to mitigate the situation. He may be less inclined to interfere if he believes that you’ve got this matter under control.”

Fíli looked up, hopeful. “Do you think that it’ll work?”

“It may,” Ori shrugged. There was a slim chance that the King might become sidelined, but Ori doubted it. Still, if that strategy gave Fíli the confidence to talk to his uncle, then why not? “Be prepared for some prodding questions, though. Either way, it’s a better alternative than keeping this a complete secret from your uncle.”

Fíli slumped back against his seat and pressed his hand against face. “I’m doomed either way, aren’t I?” he mumbled. “Alright, I’ll tell Uncle Thorin later.”

“Whenever you are comfortable, of course,” Ori agreed readily, making no effort to hide the relief in his voice. Thank Mahal.

“But in the meantime, I still need help to sort through this.” The prince gave a weary side-glance at the leaning tower of presents.

“What about asking for help from the Company then?”

Fíli scowled. “The Company gossips like old wives! Look at Gloín and Bofur! They’re the absolute worst!”

Ori winced. That was a very good point.

“Alright, so maybe we shouldn’t go asking all the members of the Company for help.” Ori mentally went down the list of Dwarves who could help. No Kíli, no Thorin, no Gloín and no Bofur. “We’ll need to pick someone who is knowledgeable, secretive, not too busy, and nosy enough to have a thorough knowledge of Dwarven personal sigils…”

Ori’s eyes lit up and he gave Fíli a beatific smile, “Actually, I know just who to ask.”

* * *

 

“Lad, when you called for an emergency Ri family meeting, I wasn’t expecting this,” Nori drawled slowly as he gazed up at the towering stack of presents. He gave a low whistle. “This is almost as impressive as your previous stack of gifts. Well done!”

From beside Nori, Dori rolled up his sleeves. “Well then,” he announced with a sigh, “who wants to be the one to tell them off this time? You or me, Nori?”

“Nori, these aren’t for me. They’re for Fíli.” Ori’s reply was laden with exasperation in the way that one would to an embarrassing parent. He turned to his elder brother, unimpressed. “Dori, there will be no scare tactics being employed this afternoon, thank you!”

“Oh,” Dori blinked in surprise. He calmly unrolled his sleeves, brushed off the wrinkles in his clothes and turned to Fíli with a large, encouraging smile. “Congratulations, lad!”

“Thank you,” Fíli deadpanned.

Dori’s smile wavered.

“Judging from that answer and the haphazard way these presents are stacked, methinks the prince has problems with unwanted suitors.” Nori’s cocky voice drifted from behind the mound of presents that he was inspecting. “And you’ve called on Dori and me for help?”

Fíli nodded tersely, but realizing belatedly that Nori couldn’t see, he added, “Will you help me, then?”

“Of course we will!” Dori turned to Fíli with soft, pitying eyes. “Between Ori, Nori and I, we have enough experience in dealing with…unsavoury advances.” The old Dwarf screwed his face as if he had smelled something rotten.

“Oy!” Nori poked his head around the present column and cried out, visibly annoyed, “don’t go volunteering my services when I never – alright, alright! I’ll help! I’ll help, you old codger! Yeesh!” He quickly ducked back behind his defensive wall of gifts to hide away from Dori’s death glare, but all the Dwarves in the room could still hear him mutter, “You’d think a Dwarf deserves more of a warm welcome after being away on a perilous journey for so long.”

“You were gone for three weeks on a mission in Dale,” Dori’s answer was as dry as the desert. “I would call it many things, but a long perilous journey it was not.”

“Can we please focus on the task at hand?” Ori interrupted quickly before his brothers could start yet another fight. “We will need to set up some sort of system to organize – ” 

“Wait a moment,” Nori moved away from the pile juggling a large package in each hand. “The King gave us the permission to deal with all of this as we see fit, yes?”

“Uh…” Fíli shuffled awkwardly in place. He sent a pleading look to an equally helpless Ori.

“Mahal’s hammer, does the King even know?” Nori unceremoniously shoved the packages back into the pile and backed away quickly. “Lad, what were you thinking? We shouldn’t even be touching these before informing Thorin!”

“What Nori meant,” Dori fired a quick glare at his brother and explained to a paling Fíli, “is that we can’t be seen acting in secrecy on matters that could impact the kingdom. And whether you like it or not, lad, your courtship will impact Erebor.”

“But I don’t even want to be courted!” Fíli exclaimed at the injustice of it all. “And I was going to tell him later!” He flinched at the twin looks of disapproval from the two elder Ri brothers and he felt his protests dying an undignified death on his lips. “I guess I should go tell him now instead?” he said meekly.

“Now would be the perfect time,” Nori agreed, giving the prince another withering look for good measure.

* * *

 

Fíli made a habit of not approaching Thorin for his personal problems unless they were very, very dire.  Unlike Kíli, who ran to Thorin to whine, sulk, rant, chat about nonsensical things, or to do any combination of those activities, Fíli had always been less forthcoming with his thoughts and emotions. His role as Crown Prince had weighed heavily on the back of his mind and with it, the need for him to present an unflappable image.  

Then again, unlike his brother, Fíli also didn’t have the luxury of being the youngest and the favourite.

(The latter was more of a speculation than anything. Uncle would never admit that he had a favourite, even on the pain of death. Fíli knew the truth, though, and he certainly didn’t hold this against his uncle.)

Fíli also had another reason to avoid talking about his personal issues with his uncle. Simply put, he was absolutely shite at it. Neither his uncle nor he were ever vocal about their emotions so when the both of them got together to talk about their feelings (of all the horrible topics they could breech) – 

Things tended to become very awkward, very fast.

Case in point: if Thorin was the one doing the talking, the conversation would be filled with awkward silences, intercepted with awkward shuffling, awkward side-glances, and awkward throat-clearing.

If Fíli was the one doing the talking, then he would inevitably become a babbling mess who would deny that anything was wrong or confess that everything has gone horribly, horribly wrong in a barrage of panicked, nonsensical words.

“I don’t have to say that anything is wrong or that I’m having problems,” Fíli repeated Ori’s words under his breath like a mantra just as he turned into the lavish hallway that led to his uncle’s office. “Just tell him about the presents and how I’ve started to send them away. It’s a straightforward fact. I can do that.”

Stupid Nori and Dori. If it hadn’t been their sarcastic scolding (Nori) and looks of deep-seated disappointment (Dori), Fíli would not have been pressured into visiting uncle now. 

 _Was this what it was like to be Ori?_ Fíli groused to himself, stopping once he reached the King’s office. Because being the younger brother to Nori and Dori was the absolute worst.

The intricately carved set of oaken doors loomed ominously in front of him without providing an answer.

Fíli took a deep breath. Then another one. And then a third for good luck.

Right. He could do this.

The sharp sound of his knocking echoed in the near silent hall. “Who is it?” came his uncle’s unmistakable baritone. 

“It’s Fíli! Can I come in?”

“Knocking for once? This is new.” The unexpected light-hearted comment soothed away some of Fíli’s nervousness. He felt a small, shaky smile creep up his face. “The door is unlocked. Come in.” 

Fíli was greeted with the familiar sight of his uncle sitting hunched over his work desk, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. A large glass mug sat to his left within easy reach, filled to the brim with the builder’s tea that his uncle favoured. Stacks of documents were placed haphazardly on the polished surface of his desk and on the plush, carpeted floor, forming a miniature (and rather impressive) barricade of paperwork around his person. Fíli had asked on many occasions to help with the work, but Thorin would stubbornly wave him away. Eventually, Fíli learned to just barge into the chamber and refuse to leave until he was given a portion of the paperwork by a very exasperated Thorin.

“At least Balin will be pleased to know that his etiquette lessons have finally sunk in,” Fíli quipped back as he pushed the door shut behind him. “Good afternoon, Uncle.”

“Good afternoon, Fíli.” Thorin replied pleasantly enough without looking up from his document. Fíli stalked closer to the desk to squint at the title. _Soil Composition Assessment in the South-East Region of Erebor, Part 3/Section 2S7H89_. Egads, how horrifically boring. “And Balin will not be pleased to know that it took you over 80 years to remember to knock before entering.”

Fíli could not help but snort. “I’m fairly sure that between Kíli and I, Balin learned to set his expectations low. That way, he will find himself pleasantly surprised whenever neither of us caused a small fire or destroyed something valuable.”  

Thorin coughed into his fist and looked up with poorly disguised indifference. “I see,” he answered neutrally, but Fíli could see the corners of his lips twitching. “And to think that I had actually believed Balin when he was raining praises on the both of you.”

Fíli blinked in surprise before breaking into a large, delighted grin at the news because – well, it’s Balin. His compliments are notoriously hard to come by.  “Balin said something good about us? When was this?”

“Just yesterday.” Thorin placed his pen back into its holder and nonchalantly tossed the report on top of a nearby pile of paper. Grabbing his mug in both hands, he turned away from his desk to face his nephew. “He said he was happy to see the both of you doing such a fine job playing hosts to our guests. The guests never seem happier.”

Fíli grimaced. He wasn’t so sure if it was him who was doing such a fine job playing host or if it was his guests who had taken an unnatural interest in him and were forced to be on their best behaviour to impress him. Fíli’s terrible predicament in the form of brightly packaged headache-inducers was proof enough of the latter.

Thorin, of course, immediately noticed his nephew’s expression. His eyes sharpened. “Fíli? Is something the matter?”

 _Well_ , Fíli thought, resigned, _here goes nothing._

“About our guests,” Fíli paused, unsure how he could continue this sentence in a delicate manner without sounding like a complete idiot. “There seems to be a few who are trying to catch my attention.”

“Oh?” Uncle Thorin said with a teasing grin, and Fíli felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. The King brought his mug to his lips and asked before taking a sip, “And how have they been trying to catch your attention?” 

“In the – uh – form of presents.” Fíli swallowed. “Courting presents. Lots and lots of them.”

Fíli jumped to the side, narrowly dodging the spray of tea that Thorin violently spat out.

“Courting presents?” Thorin choked out with watering eyes, “Lots of them? How many, exactly?”

“I’m – ah – not exactly sure?” Fíli winced. “I...haven’t had the chance to count.”

“You’re not _sure_?” Thorin repeated, incredulous. “You haven’t counted?”

“It’s a substantive amount!” Fíli retorted defensively. “Navigating around my room is difficult as is with all the gifts lying around, let alone counting them all!”

He immediately regretted his choice of words.

Thorin spluttered. “You can’t navigate around your own room?”

“This was before I stacked them into a pile,” Fíli hurriedly explained. Already, his plan to present his problem as a not-problem was starting to go up in flames. “It’s much better now! I’ve just got one pile that goes from floor to ceiling. Perfectly manageable – ”

“ _It touches the ceiling?!_ ”

“It barely skims the ceiling!” Why was he so terrible at this? “And in any case, I’ve been returning the gifts to the senders so the leaning tower of presents is nowhere near as ominous as it could have been. See? The situation is under control!” Fíli chuckled nervously, his voice strained, “Perfectly under control!”

The look Thorin threw Fíli was full of questions – horrible damning questions that Fíli was dreading and most definitely did not want to answer. _Quick_ , the little desperate voice in his head whispered, _say something to distract him, make a joke or something_!

Of course, what ended up coming out of Fíli’s mouth was this: “At least it’s good to know that my age and gender are not detracting factors to my suitors. Dwarven love really knows no bound.”

Thorin made a strangled noise.

That was an absolutely terrible thing to say.

“That was a terrible,” Fíli admitted with an awkward, reedy laugh. Whelp. His plan had not only gone up in flames at this point, it had been burnt to a fine crisp, leaving behind the metaphorical ashes that have blown into a cesspool of shit. “I am going to stop…talking now.”

The ensuing silence was so thick that Fíli could feel it pressing against him on all sides. This was mortifying. Where could he find a convenient, Dwarf-sized hole so that he could crawl inside and die?

“Fíli,” Thorin started slowly. The look he gave his nephew was filled with worry. “What happened exactly?”

Fíli’s shoulders slumped forward in resignation. “Why don’t I just show you?”

* * *

 

Fíli watched his uncle inspect the gifts with a critical eye, his expression growing more and more thunderous with every passing minute. Beside Fíli, the three Ri brothers stood close by in an act of solidarity. Ori gave Fíli a quick pat on the shoulder and a small encouraging smile.

Honestly, Ori was the best.

“Fíli,” Thorin called out and the blond immediately snapped to attention, “you said you received these a few days ago?”

“Yes, the majority of these came yesterday.”

“Did Kíli receive any?”

Fíli shook his head. “I don’t think so.” If his Cousin Thorin was right, it didn’t seem like the other Dwarves had wanted to target Kíli. Thank goodness for small mercies.

“And these gifts were not solicited?”

“No!” Fíli replied, affronted. “I’ve never even met most of these Dwarves, and I have no intention of being courted by anybody. I’ve been trying to send all of these back! That’s why I asked Ori for help.”

Thorin hummed in acknowledgement and circled the pile slowly again. “I believe you, Nephew, although I am curious to know what spurred on this sudden gift-giving incentive. In the meantime, I will send someone to collect these from you and have Balin record the names of the Dwarves who dare harass you in such a manner.” 

He stopped briefly to glower at the gift tags, no doubt recognizing the sigils of those unfortunate bastards. “Vultures, the lot of them,” Thorin snarled, so low and vicious that the three Ri brothers instinctively tense up.

“Uncle!” Fíli started, alarmed and embarrassed. This was precisely what he had been trying to avoid in the first place. “I can take care of this matter on my own! You shouldn’t have to worry about something so trivial.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Nori stepped out from his defensive position behind his elder brother.  “There isn’t a law that prevents Dwarves from sending presents to the Dwarf they fancy. As to why the Prince is receiving such a large volume of gifts all of a sudden, I would guess that it is his appearance at the banquets that has caught the attention of so many.”

“Thank you, Master Nori. I am aware of the laws of my own kingdom.” Thorin raised a cool brow at the Spy-Master. Nori grinned, unrepentant, and ignored Dori’s desperate attempt to pull him back. “As for my intervention on this matter,” the King turned towards Fíli, eyes blazing with a protective fury that the younger Dwarf had not seen since they were recuperating in the healing tent. “It is clear that you are the only one being targeted by these Dwarves for whatever nefarious reasons that we have yet to fully discover. In the meantime, I refuse to sit idly by and watch one of my own being preyed upon!”

Fíli felt his insides go cold.

Preyed upon. As if he was some sort of vulnerable creature that needed to hide behind his uncle’s coat at the first sign of trouble. Thorin could not have made it more clear as to what he thought of Fíli with that one statement.

Fíli balled his fists tightly by his side. His nails were biting into the flesh of his palms but he ignored the stinging pain. He is not prey, and he is not weak.

“I’m not asking you to sit idly by, and I am not being _preyed upon_ , Uncle,” Fíli barely restrained himself from spitting out those last few words. The anger and hurt must have registered in his voice because Thorin was looking at the blond, surprised. “I am asking you to trust me to take care of this situation. This is my mess, and I should be the one to clean it up.”

“Fíli – ”

“He won’t be doing this alone, your Majesty,” Ori stepped forward and proclaimed boldly. “My brothers and I promised to help him. At the moment, we have plans to send back every single one of these gifts, unless your Majesty objects, of course.”

“We can still provide you with the list of names of all the Dwarves who has sent a present to the Prince,” Dori offered. “We will be using the list as a method of matching the Dwarf with their corresponding personal sigils anyway. It won’t be any extra work.”

“I can also keep an eye out for any potential trouble, Majesty,” Nori crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. His expression was surprisingly serious for once. “I can send back a report if I catch anything suspicious from these Dwarves.”

Thorin kept silent. He let his serious gaze rove over the four Dwarves, his dark eyes sweeping over the Ri brothers before settling heavily on Fíli.

“Please, Uncle,” Fíli insisted. He refused to look away.

_I am not weak. I am not prey._

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Thorin’s shoulders dropped and he let out a deep sigh. “Very well, Fíli,” he conceded grudgingly, “I trust you to handle this matter. However,” he raised his voice to interrupt Fíli’s happy cheer, “I still insist on sending some men over.”

“What?” Fíli cried, a little incredulous. The fleeting moment of happiness deflated almost immediately. “Why?” 

“As extra bodyguards to protect you against any potential trouble.” The King levelled his nephew with a knowing look. “I will not be talked out of this.”

“I can defend myself perfectly fine!” Fíli rebutted stubbornly. “I don’t need guards!”

“Fíli,” Thorin said in warning.

“How many were you thinking of sending? Four?”

Thorin pressed his lips together in a thin line of displeasure. Fíli, however, recognized that expression and knew he had guessed right.

“Uncle! Four is grossly excessive!”

“Four is a perfectly reasonable number.”

“One. I will only need one guard! And even that is unnecessary!”

“You shall have three. I am not willing to negotiate on this.”

“Two, Uncle!”

“ _Fíli._ ” The warning tone was back, stronger than ever.

But Fíli refused to stop. “Two is perfect! We can station them outside of my door and have them flank the entrance. What’s the third one going to do? He’ll just be a waste!”

“The third one can also guard the door if he knows what’s good for him!”

“Or we can have two guards and leave out the third!”

“Fine!” Thorin snarled and threw his hands up, his hold on his temper finally snapping. “Have your two guards, but you don’t get a say as to which ones I pick. There will be no more complaints about this matter and I expect this list of names in a few days time. Do I make myself clear?”

With a final glare at his nephew, Thorin turned on his heel and stalked away. Fíli could barely discern his uncle’s unhappy mutterings of “insolent Dwarflings” before the door was slammed shut behind him. 

The four remaining Dwarves glanced at each other in silence.

“Well then,” Nori clapped his hands and said in false cheer, “that went rather well!”

* * *

 

To put things lightly, the next three days were absolute hell.

“That package was supposed to go into that third pile over there, not the fifth pile!”

“That was not what you told me five minutes ago. You distinctly said, ‘put that package in the fifth pile!’ Don’t blame me for your own incompetency!”

Between his duties to the kingdom and the deadline Thorin had imposed on him to compile that list of names, Fíli found himself constantly on the run from one end of Erebor to the next. Even meal times did not offer him the reprieve he needed; instead of leisurely enjoying his meals as he normally would, Fíli would sit down, inhale his food, and dart out the door in fifteen minutes flat just to buy himself as much time as he could on the gift-sorting project.

Even Kíli, with his spotty meal attendance, had noticed that something was off.

“Fíli?” his brother had grabbed him by the arms in the hallway during one of Fíli’s return trips to his chambers. “Is everything alright? I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Oh, um, everything is fine,” Fíli had replied distractedly, “Just. You know. In a hurry. Look Kíli, I’ll talk to you later. I have to finish something for Thorin.” With a final quick wave, he dashed away from his brother.

That had been yesterday evening.

“I clearly said the third pile! Just because you’ve gone deaf from spending all your time at those rowdy gambling houses – ”

“And you’ve clearly gone senile if you can’t even remember what you said five minutes ago!”

The sad truth was that Fíli had a very good reason to be rushing back to his chambers.

“Senile?! I’ll show you senile!”

“Better sit down, old man! You wouldn’t want your knees to give out!”

“Will you both just STOP IT?!” Ori snarled. He violently slammed his pen down on his desk, not caring that he had splattered dark ink across the parchment he had been writing on, and pushed his chair back to stand up. The inkwells rattled dangerously on the table.

Nori and Dori loosened their stranglehold on each other and jumped back in surprise.

“You’ve been at this for the last three days!” Ori stalked towards his brothers like a man out for blood. Once in a while, he would fluidly step around the piles of presents on the floor, but he remained unstoppable on his war path to throttle his brothers. “If you hadn’t spent so much with your childish bickering, we would’ve been done ages ago! Instead, I get to hear the most useless, asinine comments for the past. Three. Days!”  

Dori and Nori grew more and more alarmed with each step Ori took.

Fíli rushed out of his seat and grabbed the younger Dwarf by the shoulders from behind to stop him from committing fratricide.

This was why Fíli was so insistent on returning back to his chamber as soon as possible. Clearly, his presence was needed -- not to stop the imminent combined destructive forces that were Nori and Dori, but to protect the older Ri brothers from Ori.

“We’ve almost done sorting everything,” Fíli said in a soothing tone in his friend’s ear. He’s taken to doing that a lot lately. “We have maybe ten gifts left where we have to identify the senders before we can send the list of names off to Thorin.”

Slowly, Ori dropped his aggressive stance. Fíli quickly signed in Iglishmêk behind the scholar’s shoulder to Nori and Dori. _Get tea, you fools!_

“We’re sorry lad, we hadn’t meant to cause you so much distress.” Dori looked mortified by his own actions.

“Perhaps a nice spot of chamomile tea would do us all some good,” Nori offered quickly. “Dori, why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and help me fetch some?”

The two scurried out the door without another word.

Ori let out a tired sigh once the door shut closed. “You didn’t need to send them running, you know. I wouldn’t have hurt them. Much.”

“Of course I had to,” Fíli replied smoothly. He wasn’t even surprised that Ori had known. “I wanted to spare my poor room from being torn to shreds from the Battle of the Ri’s.”

Ori huffed out a laugh. Fíli noticed with mild alarm that he had not denied those allegations. “Well,” the scholar said instead, “at least we have some peace and quiet to – “

There was a sudden, knocking on the door, loud and insistent.

“Spoke too soon,” Fíli retorted, walking over to the entrance. He opened the door a crack to peek out and blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted him. “Dwalin? What are you doing here?”

“Let me in, lad. I’m your personal guard.”

“You can’t be my guard,” Fíli frowned in confusion. He nonetheless pulled the door open and stepped aside to let Dwalin through. “I’ve already got two.”

“They are off-duty today so I am acting as one of their replacements,” Dwalin grunted. His gaze softened when he spotted Ori. “Master Ori,” he nodded cordially. “Pleasure to see you here.”

To Fíli’s surprise, Ori flushed a bright red that extended from his cheeks down to his neck. “Oh. Um. Likewise, Master Dwalin,” he squeaked out. He gave the warrior a shy, shaky smile. 

Dwalin quirked his lips in what had to be the friendliest smile Fíli had seen on the King’s Guard’s face. The gentle, fond expression was very much out of place with the dark, tribal tattoos on Dwalin’s head and the scar on his brow.

The prince quickly turned back to gape at his young friend and Ori’s smile was positively saccharine by now and _was he peering at Dwalin from under his lashes?!_

_What sort of madness is this?_

Dwalin cleared his throat, pulling Fíli’s attention away from asking the burning questions he had at the tip of his tongue. “I see why Thorin is behaving the way he has been now.” The warrior nodded to the five piles of presents on the floor. “You have accumulated an impressive group of admirers, lad.”

Fíli watched Dwalin slowly circle around the presents to do his own inspections. “Uncle’s been behaving oddly?” the blond asked.

Dwalin rolled his eyes and snorted. “He’s been positively beastly. He spent the past few meetings glaring at the Iron Hills ambassadors as if he was ready to gut them like fish. Lord Thrim almost pissed his pants in fear.” 

Fíli choked on air. Ori, who had just taken a seat at his desk to get back to work, didn’t even bother holding back his bark of laughter, the traitor.

In retrospect, Fíli should not have been surprised at all. Of course his uncle would not let this matter settle just because he had promised to let Fíli handle it.

“Has…he done anything to the Dwarves?” Fíli was almost afraid of the answer.

“As if Balin and Bilbo would let him burn away the bridges of our alliances that easily.” Dwalin crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at Fíli with something suspiciously close to concern. “Lad, you should have told us that you were having some trouble,” he said gruffly. “We would have helped you sort through this mess sooner.”

Fíli groaned. “Dwalin, not you too!”

“I just don’t see why you’ve been keeping this a secret.”

“I wanted to deal with this situation on my own without making a large fuss of it.” Fíli ran an annoyed hand through his hair. So much for that plan. “And I wasn’t having trouble with this until just recently.”

Dwalin shook his head. “Courting business is always troublesome,” he said sternly, as if he was drawing from a deep well of painful, personal experience. Fíli wondered which brave, mad Dwarves had attempted to court Dwalin, and whether they had survived to tell the tale. “And you’ve got some explaining to do once he gets here as well.” 

“Wait,” Fíli’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “Who’s he?”

Just as Fíli finished his question, the heavy set of double doors unceremoniously banged open, the sound echoing loudly around the room causing Ori and Fíli to flinch back in surprise. Fíli whirled around in time to see Kíli stalking forward with purpose and determination, his long strides eating up the distance between himself and his brother.

And he looked – Fíli noticed with trepidation – utterly hurt and absolutely furious.

“Fíli!” Kíli reached over and gripped Fíli’s shoulders tightly, his dark eyes blazing, “Why haven’t you told me you were being courted? How long has this been going on?” The brunet did a double-take when he noticed Ori’s presence despite the young Dwarf’s attempt to shy away from view. “And what’s he doing here?”

Fíli spluttered. “What do you mean, ‘what’s he doing here’? What are _you_ doing here, Kíli?”

Kíli’s grip tightened on Fíli. “I’m here,” he spat out, “because I volunteered to be your guard after Uncle told me everything that you wouldn’t!”

Fíli felt his temper flare white-hot at the accusatory tone but he struggled to clamp it down. He could concede that his deliberate secret-keeping would hurt Kíli, but it wasn’t as if he had done so with malicious intent. And besides, what right did Kíli have to act so righteously angry? He was the one who had become all secretive for the past months, and more recently, with his time spent with that she-Elf.

“I haven’t told anyone else about this because I’ve been trying to handle this on my own as quickly and quietly as possible.” Fíli gritted out. He shrugged off Kíli’s grip and took a half-step back, but he couldn’t keep himself from glaring. He refused to back away, not when he was in the right about this. “Uncle found out because he has to know, and Ori is here because he has experience in handling this matter.”

Kíli looked even more affronted by the explanation. “Oh, so basically, you haven’t told me because you don’t think I can help you or you think I couldn’t keep a secret. Is that all?”

_Oh for the love of Mahal!_

“Not everything is about you, Kíli!” Fíli snapped. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Dwalin and Ori discreetly tiptoeing out the door. “Besides, it’s not as if you were around much for me to tell you anything!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means that the pot is certainly calling the kettle black! You’ve been acting all secretive longer than I have what with you ferreting away with that Elf Captain!”

Kíli narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “Don’t you dare pin this on Miss Tauriel! Besides, I never made it a secret that I was spending time with her! You even gave me your approval to court her, unless you lied about _that_ too!”

It was as if the world around Fíli had slowed to a stand-still. He could feel the air rush out of his lungs, leaving him gasping. Kíli’s words continued to ring hollowly into his ears, and with each reiteration, the sharp pang of pain in his heart grew more and more poignant.

Courting. Tauriel.

What?

“I – I did no such thing!” Fíli said hoarsely. He would never – when was this even? He had no idea! “I didn’t even know you were courting her!”

“Unbelievable, Fíli!” Kíli threw his hands up in the air in disbelief. “You told me to take my time and that you didn’t mind!”

The words sounded frighteningly familiar and Fíli dug deep into the recesses of his memory to recall when he had had this particular conversation with his brother. When had he said something remotely similar to that? When was this?

_The meeting!_

“I thought you wanted to spend time with her because you needed to get things off your chest!” Fíli explained desperately. “I thought it would help since you no longer seem to want to talk to me anymore!” 

“I –” For a brief second, a flash of guilt passed through Kíli’s eyes and he stood gaping at his older brother, but the moment passed just as quickly as it had arrived and Kíli shut his mouth with an audible click. “Are – are you serious?” he laughed brokenly, “You were giving me permission to talk to Tauriel?” Kíli shook his head and positively snarled out, “Who made you my keeper!?”

“I’m not trying to be your keeper, you idiot!” Fíli roared out. This was it. He was done with being nice. “I am trying to do what I thought would help you since you wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong!”

“You want to know what’s wrong? This is what’s wrong!” Kíli gestured at the air between them. “You always need to fix everything that you perceived as wrong and you can’t take no for an answer! Well guess what?” He took a half-step closer to Fíli. “Not everyone wants you to meddle in their problems! I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong, I don’t want to be fixed,” he gritted out that last word with venom, “and I don’t need you to constantly hover over me like…like I am some incompetent child!”

Kíli made a slashing motion with his hand and continued his tirade, “And maybe that’s why I like spending time with Tauriel! She never treated me like I’m a child or like I’m someone lesser! She treats me like I’m her equal!”

“What are you even on about?!” Fíli cried out, confused, hurt and more than a little insulted. He could not begin to understand what sort of warped logic Kíli had employed here. “All I’ve done is try to make you feel better! Since when does caring about someone equate to treating them like they’re incompetent?”

“Since you felt the need to give me permission to talk to Tauriel, that’s when!”

“I wasn’t giving you permission, damn it all!” Fíli yelled back. He was seconds away from throttling his brother. This was ridiculous. He was done with this conversation. “But fine! Since you seem so against the idea of me giving you permission for anything, then I clearly _do not_ give you the permission to court the Elf Captain! It’s a terrible idea and I most definitely do not approve of it!” Fíli ignored his brother’s sharp inhale or the way Kíli had recoiled back as if had been slapped.  “And if you think either me or Uncle will let you get away with making such a stupid decision, then you have another thing coming!”

A trickle of guilt made its way into Fíli’s heart from seeing his brother’s crushed expression, but he stomped it down viciously. Never in a million years would he approve of the she-Elf. Even thinking about it was making his stomach roil and his chest tight as if his heart was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

“So, this is what you really think,” Kíli chuckled bitterly. He wiped at his wet eyes and Fíli refused to budge, no matter how guilty it made him feel seeing his brother this upset. “I thought you of all people would have supported me. Clearly, I was wrong.” The brunet swallowed hard. “I’m glad to know that I finally got at least one truth from you.” 

Fíli clenched his fists tightly and bit his tongue from blurting out his apologies. He would not retract his statement. He was right whether Kíli liked it or not.

“Right. Understood.” Kíli’s voice was shaking with emotion. “Clearly, our conversation is finished here. Now if you excuse me, I need to return to my post. I gave my word to the King that I would help you.” The archer turned away from Fíli and rigidly stalked towards the exit. Just as he wrenched the door open, he threw over his shoulder, “Even when you clearly do not deserve my help.”

The door slammed shut with a definitive bang.

Fíli whirled around, grabbed the half-bottle of ink that was sitting on his desk, and violently hurled it across the room. The sound of breaking glass against the wall did not make him feel any better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Phew! This chapter took a lot of face lifts before I was satisfied enough to send it off to the betas. Now that all the nastiness is out in the open, let the cold war between Fili and Kili begin (and let the good times roll!) 
> 
> I'd also like to point out that this is the chapter in which Fili and Kili are both jealously possessive of each other without realizing that they are being jealously possessive. Also, Fili is angry at Thorin for coddling him without recognizing that *that's* exactly what he's doing to his brother. 
> 
> Dwarves. They can be stubborn, difficult, and more than a little slow when it comes to matters of the heart. ;) 
> 
> Many, many thanks for your patience and to all those who read, reviewed, kudosed, bookmarked, recced, and favourited this fic! As always, please let me know what you think. I *do* factor your comments into the plot and it helps me to determine where I need to focus on the story-telling, which characters should get more screen time, what parts need more explanation...and etc. 
> 
> Anyway, catch you all next time. :D 
> 
> Random additional notes:  
> [1] the gifts were divided into 5 piles as follows - 1) Erebor suitors (male), 2) Erebor suitors (female), 3) Iron Hills suitors (male), 4) Iron Hills suitors (female), 5) all others. 
> 
> [2] Pile 3 easily towers over every other pile. Thorin is incredibly unimpressed.
> 
> [3] Ori's opinion of Fili does not fully reflect the reality of the situation; his opinions are biased towards Fili because he sees Fili as his best and closest friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched the third Hobbit movie and am disappointed by the way they seemed to have brushed Fili aside (as always). A good chunk of this chapter was written with the goal of soothing away that particular hurt. 
> 
> Un-edited and unbetaed. Thank you kindly for your patience and I hope you all have a wonderful New Year.

For the next few days, Fíli and Kíli had taken to avoiding each other like the plague. This was, surprisingly, rather easy to achieve; Fíli had all but locked himself in his room to deal with the Suitor Problem (as Ori had coined it with a frown of distaste) while Kíli had made it his personal mission to stay away from the Royal Wings whenever he was off guard duty.

It wasn’t as if Fíli was completely unhappy with the fragile peace that had settled over his life. He was well aware that a second run-in with Kíli would only erupt into a cataclysmic fight of epic proportions, one that would most likely end in a fistfight and an exchange of scathing comments. He wasn’t ready to see his brother yet and he had a feeling that this was quite mutual.

Of course, leave it to Uncle Thorin to shatter the peace with his damnable request for a meeting.

* * *

 

“The list is complete and up to date, your Majesty. You will see that we’ve divided the suitors based on their home, nobility, gender, and threat level as denoted by the number of x’s beside each name. Ori is also keeping a second copy of the list should we need to make any changes. We shall send you those updates if they are available.”

From his armchair, Thorin reached for the parchment in Dori’s hand and scanned it with furrowed brows. “What of the gifts?”

“All gifts have been documented,” Nori sidled over and gave a short nod to his older brother. “We are also in the process of returning those back to their senders. We anticipate to be finished by Thursday at the latest. A full report shall be sent to you as soon as we are complete.”

“Do we know how many suitors we are dealing with?”

“We counted somewhere along the 70’s, your Majesty.”

Thorin’s horror was palpable to Fíli even when the blond had his face firmly buried in his palms, pretending that life still made sense. Ori, dear, sweet Ori, who had been standing to his right like a silent, vigilant pillar of strength, made a soft sound of pity and gently patted him on his back.  

Last he had counted, the number of suitors who had sent Fíli a courting gift totalled to exactly 72 people, to Dori, Ori and Balin’s surprise, and Nori’s amusement (the bastard).

Fíli wasn’t sure how he should react anymore. A part of him was still shocked that _people_ – as in _plural, how did that happen_ – had expressed enough interest to court him. The other parts of him were a convoluted knot of emotions with his fear, embarrassment, disbelief, and confusion all tangled up in a big mess of hideousness.

At least, he could draw small comfort from the fact that nothing could possibly top this mortifying experience of being courted by the equivalent of a small hamlet of Dwarves. Surely, nothing could beat the humiliation arising from Thorin’s awkward explanation of the Suitor Problem to a deeply amused Balin.

“We just intercepted a Dwarrowdam attempting to place her gift by the Prince’s doorstep,” came Dwalin’s gruff tone by the entrance to Thorin’s office. He stalked forward with a sullen Kíli in tow and deposited a frighteningly vivid orange package on the King’s desk. “Lady Gunnlod of the Iron Hills. She also wanted to deliver this message.” Dwalin motioned to Kíli, who fished into his coat to pull out a large scroll. He unceremoniously tossed it on to the table and it landed beside the gift with a soft thud.

Thorin shifted from his seat and eyed the scroll suspiciously as the three Ri brothers and Balin shuffled closer to look. “What is that?” Balin asked his brother, his tone wary.

“It’s a poem.” Fíli had a very bad feeling from the awkward way Dwalin coughed into his fist, “The poem listed all the things the Lady loves about the prince.”

“Oh? Surely, it couldn’t _just_ be a love poem if it is making the great Dwalin fret,” Nori commented a little too casually. Fíli, who remained behind the protective meat-shield that was Dori (mainly to put as much distance as he could from Kíli), shot the thief a dirty, dirty look.

Dwalin’s dark glare mirrored Fíli’s. “The Lady included different fictional scenarios featuring herself and the prince,” he said tersely.

“Fictional scenarios?” Balin asked, intrigued.

“Yes, fictional scenarios.” At Thorin’s expectant look, Dwalin gritted out with the same level of reluctance as a man knowingly led to his death, “Of the _erotic_ variety.”

The room descended into an awkward silence, minus the rasping, chocking noises coming from Thorin’s throat. Fíli slowly buried his face in his hands again with the added effort in willing himself out of existence. He was wrong, so very, _very_ wrong when he thought he could not be any more embarrassed by this situation.

“You just had to ask!” Dori hissed out to Nori just as he managed to clap his hands over his mouth to stem his guffaws.

“Oh come now, this is hilarious!” Nori choked out with tearing eyes a few beats later. “The Lady wrote a scroll full of fictional smut and tried to deliver it to the prince in person! However you look at it, you’ve got to admit that she has a real brass pair of – ”

The Dwarves ignored the thief’s yelp of pain.

“I want all the information I can get from this Lady and how much of a threat she will pose,” Thorin ordered, and if his voice was thinner than usual, nobody was suicidal enough to comment. “Master Ori, add the Lady to the list.”

Fíli peered through the cracks of his fingers and watched the words ‘Lady Gunnlod’ neatly scratched into the parchment in Ori’s characteristic loopy writing. The scholar only hesitated for a brief second before he added several large x’s beside the Lady’s name.

She had scored herself four out of five x’s, higher than even old Lord Thrim with his cradle robbing tendencies and his disturbing obsessions with locks and locks paraphernalia.

“We need more guards.”

The Dwarves turned to Kíli at his solemn words, surprised.

“We are woefully unprepared to face our threat,” the archer spoke up again, his tone oddly controlled. “There are 73 Dwarves who may be dangerous that we know of, but there may still be more lurking about undetected.” Kíli’s gaze swept over his audience and Fíli barely stopped himself from scowling when his brother purposely avoided looking at him. “Two Dwarves guarding at the door is not enough. We should be arranging a series of checkpoints with different guards manning their posts, and we should have that at every single hallway that could lead to the royal chambers.” 

“And how many guards and checkpoints would you suggest?” Thorin asked.

“There are two ways that could lead into the Royal Wing. I would suggest three checkpoints starting from each of those entrances with four guards manning each checkpoint.” 

Fíli grimaced. The absolute last thing he wanted was to feel like he was constantly watched by a group of soldiers like some helpless damsel in distress, especially when he could more than outfight any of his potential threat. His pride would not survive such an insult. He’d rather face a hundred Lady Gunnlods than to be swathed in cotton.

Besides, he had barely wrestled an agreement from Thorin to have two guards posted at his door by being even _more_ stubborn than the king. How that tactic had worked was still a mystery to him, which meant the chances of him replicating that success were slim to none.

“Come now, a series of checkpoints is an unnecessary waste of resources!” Fíli said with a weak chuckle. “All I’ve been receiving are presents. They’re a major annoyance, but they’re hardly a threat!”

Kíli cast a quick incredulous look at his brother before turning away, clearly unimpressed. “According to that list, we have gotten lucky that the _73 Dwarves_ that have managed to send a gift to Fí – _the Crown Prince_ had not caused any more harm,” the archer said coolly to Thorin. The little spark of irritation that was present in Fíli burst into flame. “However, with the current lack of security, who’s to say that our good fortune will hold out?”

“And what reason do we have to believe that this pattern will not continue?” Fíli countered with steel in his voice. “Those speculations are groundless and they shouldn’t be entertained without – ”

“What you call speculations is what I call foresight,” Kíli cut in, finally turning around to glare at his brother. “And maybe, you should have _speculated_ a bit more about the consequences of hiding this suitor problem from us in the first place! We wouldn’t have had to clean up your mess otherwise!”

Fíli flinched, the words felt like a sudden blow to his gut that had knocked the wind out of him, but just as quickly as the pain spiked through his body, it was replaced by a surge of red-hot rage coursing through his veins like an electric current.

That little hypocrite! Kíli should be the _last_ person to accuse Fíli of not sharing his problems when he himself refused to admit that anything was wrong despite being withdrawn and sullen before Tauriel’s arrival. Honestly, what was he expecting Fíli to do after Kíli had made it clear that he wanted to be alone? Was he expecting Fíli to chase after him and beg for his attention? Now that the tables have turned, Kíli had absolutely no right to act all insulted when it was Fíli who refused to talk, especially since Fíli was only doing it to give the little bastard some space to sort through his own issues.

“If this is such a bother to you, you’re more than welcome to leave! Nobody asked you to help. Mahal knows _I_ certainly didn’t,” Fíli hissed out with enough venom to make his comment sting. “And talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Shall I point out how _you_ should be speculating about the consequences of your choice of _friends_?”

He felt a dark thrill of satisfaction at seeing his brother’s paling face.

“That,” Kíli snarled out, low and threatening, “has nothing to do with this!”

Fíli let out a bark of harsh laughter that had Ori recoiling away. “That has _everything_ to do with this, or have you conveniently forgotten our previous conversation?”

“How could I forget,” Kíli sneered. “You’ve made it so clear just how little you think of my judgment with your incessant need to grant your approval over who I meet.”

“For the love of Mahal, since when exactly have I said that?” Fíli threw his hands in the air, his frustration finally boiling over. “When did I _ever_ say I thought little of your – ”

“You thought I couldn’t handle the truth! That’s why you were hiding information from me! How is that not thinking little of me?” Kíli snarled, jabbing a finger at his direction.

“Well, you certainly aren’t handling it very well at the moment, are you?”

“So you DO admit it then!”

“I NEVER SAID THAT!”

“YOU PRETTY MUCH IMPLIED IT!”

“I HAVEN’T DONE THAT EITHER! YOU ARE LITERALLY MAKING THINGS UP!”

“ENOUGH!” Thorin slammed his hand down on the desk with a resounding crack. “I will not have the two of you bickering like children when we have a serious issue at hand! I will have you both act like the dignified princes that you are or you will not like the consequences, so help me Mahal!”

Thorin’s words were like a bucket of cold water.

Chest heaving from his shouting match, the blond glanced about the room. His eyes caught Dwalin and Balin, standing to the side and shaking their heads in disappointment. Ori had shifted away from Fíli to huddle beside his brothers, his expression as gloomy and miserable as Dori’s. Even Nori looked visibly uncomfortable.

Fíli felt the last flames of his anger smothered out by a crushing wave of shame.

What was he even doing?

Here he was trying to prove to Thorin that he was a proper Crown Prince, that he was responsible enough to handle his own messes without his uncle intervening on his behalf, but he was behaving more like a child with the way he was egging Kíli on in front of an audience. How pathetically petty was that?

“I…” Fíli swallowed heavily. This was beyond mortifying. “Sorry, Uncle,” he muttered, his eyes downcast, “It won’t happen again.” Distantly, he heard Kíli mumble out his own set of apologies.

The thick silence returned to the room, weighting over the Dwarves as constrictively as a sodden blanket. Fíli could feel heat on his cheeks as he kept his eyes locked to the ground, feeling worse by the second. He jumped a little when he felt a soft pat on his shoulders.

“There, there lad,” Balin murmured. “Courting business has the tendency to bring the worst out of us Dwarves. However, your brother does have a point. Two or three additional guards are not enough.” The advisor frowned and turned to Thorin, “Speaking of which, how were the presents delivered? Surely, the guards would have noticed all these suitors sneaking into the royal wings to deliver their presents.”

“I have conducted an investigation,” Dwalin grunted. “The majority of the suitors had instructed our servants to deliver the gifts for them. There were a few bolder souls who managed to slip past the guards to make the deliveries themselves. Lady Gunnlod was one of them.”

To the shock of all the Dwarves in the room, the warrior took a step forward and sank to one knee in front of Thorin and Fíli. His large, powerful frame was rendered strangely diminutive by his submissive pose. “I take complete responsibility for discovering this issue so late. I have questioned the guards and have remedied the situation.” Dwalin shook his head harshly, “I humbly submit myself to your displeasure, my King, my Prince.”

Fíli felt his mouth go dry. Here was Dwalin, one of the strongest, proudest, most loyal Dwarves he has ever known, who was as close as family, on his knees asking for forgiveness. This was wrong. The warrior shouldn’t be bowing to anyone, least of all _him,_ who had been acting in a manner unbefitting of a prince. He opened his mouth, not knowing exactly what he should say but damn it all, he had to get Dwalin to stand up –

“Dwalin,” the King raised a hand to stop his nephew in his track. “You are one of my most loyal friends and have served me well. I will not see you disciplined for this failure, especially when you have a solution in place already. I trust that you discovered what had been the cause of this problem?”

“Aye, your Majesty.” Dwalin kept his head resolutely bowed. “The guards have admitted that they were occasionally distracted by lost Dwarrodams asking for directions. I suspect that this was a distraction tactic employed by the suitors to sneak into the Royal Wing.”

“And your remedy?” Thorin asked, his expression neutral.

“The guards have been disciplined and have received new training. They have also been instructed to stop any servants from making present deliveries.”    

Thorin nodded curtly. “Then rise, Dwalin. I will need you to keep constant vigilance over any potential threat these coming weeks until the festivities are over.” The King reached over and clasped Dwalin by his shoulders once the soldier was reluctantly on his feet again. “I know well enough that you have punished yourself for this transgression and I will not add to that,” he said earnestly, ignoring Dwalin’s protests. “But if you insist on redeeming yourself, I would like for you to work with Fíli to establish the security measures around his person and around his chambers. I trust that you will not fail me.”

“Uncle – ” Fíli started, his eyes flickering back and forth between his uncle and Dwalin in surprise and in confusion. This...was not at all what Fíli was expecting. With Balin and Kíli’s criticisms of Fíli‘s sparse security detail, Fíli had thought that Thorin would’ve placed Dwalin completely in charge even if it meant going against Fíli’s wish for a small number of guards.

“Fíli,” the king gave his nephew a soft, expecting look, one that he would normally reserve to temper Kíli’s passionate rants, “I trust that you will be able to take Balin and Kíli’s considerations when working with Dwalin.” 

Fíli nodded quietly. That…wasn’t an unreasonable request. Fíli could work within those parameters especially if it meant that he had a second chance to prove to his uncle that he handle this Suitor Problem without interference. After all, the last thing we wanted was to be a disappointment again.

* * *

 

In the end, they had settled for a watered-down version of Kíli’s plan.

“We will place two guards by the West Entrance of the hallway leading to the royal chambers, and another set of guards by the North Entrance.” Dwalin pointed to the locations on the unfurled map on the oak desk in the privacy of Fíli’s room. “In addition, we will have two guards to patrol the halls and two to guard the door. Guard rotations will occur at every hour. Are we all in accord?”

With no other protests from Fíli, the brief meeting was adjourned, and the three packed up the maps in tense silence. Dwalin gave him a final nod before stepping out of the room with Kíli following silently behind without a single backwards glance.

Fíli managed to shut the door firmly behind him before he sighing deeply and resting his forehead against the wooden surface of his door in a dejected slump. What an exhausting, soul-draining ordeal that was, but at least it was over. If only his fight with Kíli could be resolved.

Snorting to himself, Fíli pushed himself upright and trudged to a nearby chair, collapsing into it in a graceless sprawl. As if his brother was going to let go of his anger that easily. There was no denying that Kíli was beyond furious. His uncharacteristic cold façade was telling enough. Many Dwarves have only seen the young Dwarf respond with volatile anger, but Fíli knew that when his brother was deeply upset, his anger ran bone chilling cold. Only a few people had managed to get Kíli to react in this fashion in the past – Uncle Thorin and their mother Dís.

And now, apparently Fíli as well.

That realization had hurt a lot more than he had anticipated.

 _Oh come now, just because he is throwing a massive temper tantrum doesn’t make him right!_ Fíli thought furiously. He brought his hand up, rubbing slow circles at his temples to chase away his growing, headache. _Besides, I don’t understand why he’s feeling this angry just because I didn’t tell him about the suitors!_

The whole fight had sat oddly with Fíli now that he thought about it. He couldn’t for the life of him understand his brother’s explosive reaction, certainly not the way Kíli had barged into his room upon discovering about Fíli’s secret admirers, his temper already dangerously flared.

Fíli pressed his the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned. Stupid. He had been so stupid. Like the idiot that he was, he hadn’t bothered to stop to think. There had to be something beyond their argument that had gotten Kíli so uncharacteristically angry even before they spoke, but what was it? Was it something to do with the way his little brother was acting so withdrawn before the celebrations?  

Three dull knocks on the door effectively interrupted his mental self-flagellation. “Your Majesty,” came the familiar, gruff voice of his guard, “Lord Thorin of the Iron Hills has come to pay you a visit. He is waiting by the West Entrance. Shall we let him through?”

Fíli lowered his hand and blinked owlishly at the closed door. Thorin wanted to see him? What could he possibly want?

“Uh, yes,” Fíli called out, grimacing at the roughness of his voice. “Please send him through. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, your Majesty,” the guard grunted. “It will just take a moment.”

Fíli sank back into his chair and closed his eyes at the fading sound of the guard’s footsteps. He felt marginally guilty for not spending much time with his cousin since the Suitor Problem had spiralled out of control but truth be told, he was becoming weary of Thorin’s visits. It seemed that whenever the young Dwarf sought him out to chat, it was to bring some sort of warning.

The blond winced. Now there’s an unpleasant thought – his cousin Thorin was some harbinger of bad luck whose sole purpose was to torment Fíli. Kind of like what that meddlesome Gandalf is to his uncle Thorin.

“Cousin Fíli?”

Speak of the Balrog and it shall appear.

“What brings you here, Thorin?” the prince answered without bothering to move. Hopefully, his cousin’s business would be brief and he would go away. Fíli was far too busy moping to entertain him.

“I thought I’d pay my favourite cousin a visit! May I come in? I brought food!”

On second thought… “What did you bring?” he called out cautiously.

 “…If I say bacon, will you let me in?”

Fíli perked up from his seat as his stomach gurgled hungrily at the reminder of his missed breakfast. Thorin may be the harbinger of bad luck, but he was a harbinger of bad luck _with bacon_. “I suppose you can come in,” he replied with false reluctance. He can’t have Thorin knowing just how effective his bribe was at the risk of having to endure Thorin’s stupidly smug grins on his stupidly smug face. “But I reserve the right to revoke your invitation if you’re lying.”

Thorin opened the door with one hand, the other masterfully balancing a silver tray with a domed lid, and slipped gracefully into the room. “You are most kind, Crown Prince,” his cousin said with a drawl as dry as the desert. He was looking fashionable in a red tunic, a well-fitted dark leather coat and his intricately braided hair and beard. “It’s a good thing that I wasn’t lying. I have a bacon sandwich and some cheese and mead for you. I also brought a bottle of wine since I wasn’t sure which beverage you preferred.”

He lifted the lid and handed the silver platter to Fíli, who barely muttered a quick ‘Thanks’ before tearing into his food like a ravenous beast. “Mahal’s hammer, Cousin Fíli,” Thorin leaned back and cringed in distaste, “one would think you haven’t eaten in the entirety of this month!”

“I haven’t eaten today!” Fíli defended between large bites of his sandwich. “I’ve been busy and barely had the time to sit down.”

“Ah, I suppose it has something to do with the new guards posted at the hall? I was stopped by three sets of guards on my way to visit you,” Thorin hummed with approval. He lowered himself in the seat across from the prince, setting aside the serving dome on a wooden stool beside him. “I imagine that that you are finally taking these actions to stop the suitors, then. I don’t suppose you will need to put my plan into action?”

It took a good five seconds of confused staring on Fíli’s part before he even remembered what Thorin was speaking about. Right, the _plan_ that his cousin had first proposed. The one where he had described it as – “A horrible web of lies. That’s the one you’re referring to, isn’t it?” Fíli lowered the uneaten crusts of his sandwich and gave his cousin a pointed look. “Thorin, your plan to stop the suitors was a terrible one that would lead to more trouble than it is worth. Honestly, how did you even come up with the idea? It almost looked like you stole it from the script of some asinine romance story.”  

Thorin pursed his lips, and ignoring Fíli’s protests, blithely plucked the bottle of wine from Fíli’s side and took a large, vindictive swig out of it. “First of all,” he said after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “the inspiration for my plan came from ‘The Eternal Love Story of Fulla and Buri’ which, I’ll have you know, is a Dwarven _masterpiece_ , thank you very much! Second of all,” he fired an unimpressed look at the snorting blond, “who’s to say that my plan wouldn’t work when you haven’t even tried it?”

Fíli rolled his eyes and snatched his bottle back. “The fact that you’re basing real life off of some insipid play is more than worrisome, but that is neither here nor there. The situation has been resolved. I will not be needing your aid, thank you!” He cradled the bottle possessively at Thorin’s grabby motion. “And no more wine for you! You finished half the bottle already!”

“Spoil sport,” Thorin crossed his arms and harrumphed. “Well, now that you’ve taken away my chance at seeing my plan in action _and_ the wine that I have generously offered, I find myself utterly bored with nothing to do. Although,” he eyed Fíli mischievously, “I have heard that the Erebor Gardens are something worth exploring in the company of other, fine Dwarves. I’ve never been so I wouldn’t know!”

Fíli snorted again. So that was the true purpose of Thorin’s visit. “You could’ve easily told me that you were lonely and in desperate need of my company,” he quipped teasingly before popping the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and slowly getting out of his seat.

“Me? Lonely? Pish posh! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thorin sniffed haughtily as he hopped to his feet. “I am merely suggesting that a walk through the gardens is a perfect remedy to cure my boredom. You just decided on your own to join me because my idea is brilliant.”

* * *

 

“This is amazing!” Laughing in delight, Thorin spun around to grin widely at Fíli. His neatly braided hair was mussed by the mountain wind but he gave it no mind other than tucking a stray strand behind his ear. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like this!”

“I don’t suppose any one would unless they’ve visited the Shire,” Fíli said a few sedated paces behind his cousin. His face was turned towards the warm, golden rays of the sun. “The king had it modelled after Bilbo’s homeland, although we couldn’t get everything completely right. For one, none of the large trees would grow this far up in the mountains.”

The garden was the newest addition to Erebor, having been built on the sunny Southeast side of the mountain on Bilbo’s insistence that every respectable kingdom needed a tranquil spot to ‘reflect on the beauty of nature’. Fíli could imagine just what his uncle had thought about reflecting on the beauty of _anything_ , but he suspected that King Thorin had granted the Hobbit’s request out of the need to impress Bilbo and, possibly, out of the lingering guilt over the Arkenstone debacle. This would explain why the garden mirrored so closely to the Shire with its soft rolling hills, winding dirt paths, and the lush, green shrubs that lined the roads and dotted the landscape. Once in a while, the path would fork into hidden sitting coves shrouded by thick flowering bushes, perfect for anyone seeking some peace and quiet.

Another errant breeze brushed past Fíli, carrying on its wings the sweet scent of honeysuckles. He took a deep breath. He had _missed_ spending time outside.

“Of course, I have forgotten that Thorin’s Company had visited Consort Baggins’ homeland.” Stopping in his stroll for Fíli to catch up to him, Thorin looked pointedly back at the other Dwarf, “What was the land of Hobbits like?”

Fíli blinked, surprised by the unexpected ‘consort’ title that Thorin attached to Bilbo’s name. To be fair though, it was just a matter of time before Bilbo officially becomes the king’s consort. Bilbo had not been subtle with the besotted looks he threw at Thorin every time he received a new set of courting presents.

Fíli shook his head, refocusing on the question, “It’s…uh, it’s green. Got lots of grass, lots of hills, with crops everywhere. It’s indescribably peaceful and surprisingly hard to navigate through the tangled mess of roads. In fact, some of us had gotten lost twice before we could get our bearings straight.”

“And the Hobbits? What were they like?”

“Strange creatures who are overly fond of food growing. Skittish towards strangers.” The latter was especially true. Bilbo had reminded Fíli of a cowering little ferret the first time they had met, but the fear had quickly given way to murderous intent the moment Bilbo had discovered what the Company had done to his plumbing. “When Kíli – ” Fíli grimaced a little at the mention of his brother, “when he and I first set foot into the Shire, we were having some trouble remembering the instruction to get to Bilbo’s house. Naturally, we decided that we should seek help from the locals instead.”

It was more like Thorin and Gandalf had given them two completely different sets of directions and they weren’t certain if they should trust their uncle, who was notoriously bad at navigating outside of the mountain, or Gandalf, whose tatty gray robes and horribly unkept beard did not at all lend him an air of credibility. Frankly, Gandalf was exactly like those shady characters his mother had warned him to stay away from.

Fíli chuckled under his breath and kicked a stray pebble in his path. “Of course, it hadn’t helped that we kept getting Bilbo’s name wrong. We went from asking for a ‘Mr. Baggons’ to a ‘Mr. Belggons’, and then to a ‘Mr. Biggins’, ‘Mr. Beggend’, and finally, we settled for ‘Mr. Boggins’.”

“I suppose that went superbly for you,” Thorin chortled. “How did you manage to find your way to Consort Baggins’ home then?”

“We…er…ran into some of the local children who saw Gandalf and knew where he had made his stop,” Fíli grimaced. “They refused to show us unless we’ve given them a hundred bags of sweets. The girls wanted fifteen ponies.”

Thorin let out a bark of laughter. “You mean to tell me that you and your brother were extorted by _children_?”

“Extorted is such a strong word – ”

“Would you prefer ‘coerced’, or maybe ‘strong-armed’ –”

“It was more of a _deal_ that we made,” Fíli stressed, feeling his cheeks warm. “The children settled for a bag of sweets, a few piggyback rides, and a short demonstration on swordplay.” Fíli paused and grumbled out, “And braiding lessons for the girls. They wanted braids like mine.”

Thorin blinked, his lips twitching. “Braiding lessons,” he repeated. A few chuckles escaped, growing in frequency and volume, and then, as if the floodgate has suddenly been opened, Thorin positively _keeled_ over in guffaws.

“They wouldn’t tell us where Gandalf went otherwise! And it was better than giving them fifteen ponies!“ Fíli defended.

But Thorin was not having it. “Braiding lessons,” the other Dwarf gasped, “with wee little Hobbit lasses! Because they wanted pretty braids like yours! Prince Fíli, the Golden Lion of Erebor, extorted by children into giving braiding lessons and piggyback rides!”

Fíli’s cheeks were glowing at this point. “It wasn’t extortion!”

“This little tidbit should have been included in those songs singing praises to your adventure! This is too precious!”

“Thank the Maker it wasn’t.” Fíli threw his cousin a fierce glare, “And don’t you dare add this to the songs either!”

Thorin wiped the corners of his eyes. “Your secret is safe with me,” he said, laying his right hand over his heart. “However,” his eyes sparkling and mischievous, “I may be further persuaded to keep silent if your Majesty will teach me the noble art of hair braiding.” He dissolved back into laughter.

Growling, Fíli plucked a berry from a nearby shrub and lobbed it at his cousin. It sailed through the air and splattered between Thorin’s eyes.

Thorin jerked back, his laughter abruptly cut off as he stared, poleaxed, at a chuckling Fíli. “Oh, you did not,” he growled out and wiped the juice running down the bridge of his nose. He reached for the shrubs behind him and grabbed a fistful of berries.

Fíli cursed and dove for cover behind the bushes as multiple berries sailed harmlessly over his head. “Too slow, Thorin!” he cried out, stripping a fresh fistful of berries from the branches and returned fire.

“Those were merely warning shots, Cousin!” Thorin poked his head out from his refuge behind the shrubs across the dirt road from Fíli. “I have no intention to miss –” He yelped when his forehead was hit yet again. “Stop aiming at my face!”

“Learn to duck, Thorin!” Fíli peaked over the bushes, threw another slew of berries with deadly accuracy, and dove for a new hiding spot. The cry of outrage was music to his ears. “Or better yet, learn to talk less!”

“I take back my promise!” Thorin yelled, chucking berries, leaves and small bits of twigs at Fíli’s general direction. Most landed harmlessly a few feet away from his target. “The moment I am free, I will do nothing but sing of Prince Fíli’s and his extortion by – ack!”

“Got you again!” Fíli cowed triumphantly, “I must say Thorin, I wasn’t expecting you to have such poor aim!”

Fíli was met with the sound of rustling leaves and then silence.

“Thorin?” Still crouching, Fíli waited a few seconds. When no answer was forthcoming, he slowly pushed away the foliage to peer through the open gap.

No sign of Thorin.

What was the little bastard planning?

Fíli had just enough time to register the sound of rustling leaves and his cousin Thorin – red juice running down his face, murder in his eyes – barrelling _through_ the shrubs like a charging bull before Fíli was tackled harshly to the ground.

“Oof!” Fíli wheezed out, landing on his back with the heavy weight of Thorin straddling him.

“I’d like to see how well you can brag with a face full of berries!” Thorin cowed out, his left hand pinning Fíli down by his right shoulder while his other hand was raised to smear berry pulp over Fíli’s cheeks. As quick as a flash, Fíli jabbed his fingers into the left side of Thorin’s ribs and taking advantage of Thorin’s surprised yelp, rolled over to pin his larger cousin down in his own straddle hold. Thorin refused to go down without a fight; he thrashed about so violently that Fíli was thrown off the brunet with a cry, once again landing on his back. He quickly rolled to his feet and scurried out of reach.

“Charging at me like that was cheating!” Fíli accused, but he was grinning ear-to-ear.

“All’s fair in love and war!” Thorin quipped back and made ready to pounce.

Fíli stumbled backwards, but the back of his legs caught the shrub behind him and he fell back. Surprised, he reached forward in time to grab a fistful of Thorin’s tunic and they both crashed into the plant in an inelegant sprawl of tangled limbs.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Fíli winced at the sharp ache running along his back. He was going to bruise something vicious. Thorin’s dead weight over his body was not helping either. “Oy,” he glanced down at the top of his cousin’s head, “do you mind getting off? You’re heavy!”

“No,” came Thorin’s muffled voice with a distinct whiny undertone. Fíli winced again when the other Dwarf tightened his grip around Fíli’s waist and buried his face into his tunic. “I hurt, I stink of berry juice, and I am horribly dishevelled. I blame everything on you.”

Indeed, Thorin had seen better days. His fashionable clothing was horribly stained and wrinkled, and his neatly styled hair looked more like a rat’s nest. Fíli tried valiantly not to laugh.

“If you hadn’t tackled me, you wouldn’t nearly be in as bad of a state as you are now,” Fíli reasoned. He gently prodded the side of Thorin’s head. “You are just as much to blame for this.”

Thorin lifted his head up, half of his face was smeared in red, but to Fíli’s surprise, he was smirking triumphantly. “Yes, but at least I won’t be the only one scrubbing berry juice off of my person. My revenge is swift and just, dear Cousin.”

Confused, Fíli blinked down at the new red stain on his chest exactly over the spot where Thorin was nuzzling. “Urgh! You did that on purpose! I should have known!”

“Yes, I did!” Thorin cackled without remorse. “And I’ll do it again if – oh,” his eyes widened as his gaze shifted at something behind Fíli. The prince tried to twist his head to see what it was. “Apologies Cousin Kíli, Master Elf. I hope we weren’t too disruptive.”

Fíli felt his whole body tense. Master Elf. _Tauriel was here._

“I would appreciate,” came Kíli’s voice as cold as the arctic wind, “if you can kindly get off of my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Next chapter - jealousy raising its ugly, ugly head.
> 
> On a random note, I had to google if honeysuckles grew in European mountains on the assumption that Erebor has a similar climate as the mountains in Germany. That was my attempt to ensure that this chapter was not completely full of crap. For the two of you out there who care, you’ll be pleased to know that they do indeed grow on mountains. I also googled berries that grew in European mountains, a recipe on making bacon sandwiches (because I got hungry after writing that scene), and how to best break free from a straddle hold. Whoever is spying on my internet searches is probably having a field day.
> 
> Apologies for the massive delay. I write whenever I have the spare time to do so which, sadly, is rather lacking due to school. I will do my damndest to finish this story though even if I may be a bit slow on the updates. Fili deserves more love and I hope that this fic will be able to satisfy my own want to see him in the lime light. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for your patience, as always. It means the world to me to know that you are enjoying this piece.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. You guys are incredibly awesome and are the best readers anyone can have. <3
> 
> This is unbeta-ed. Apologies in advance for mistakes. I'll probably do minor edits later.

_This could not have gone any worse_ , Fíli thought with something akin to deep-seated dread at the sight of his brother’s glowering form.

“Ah, apologies, Cousin Kíli,” Thorin cleared his throat. He casually rolled off of a wide-eyed, frozen Fíli and brushed the leaves and branches off his grass-stained shirt with cool nonchalance. “Cousin Fíli and I were having a lovely stroll through the gardens –”

“And the stroll ended with you on top of my brother,” Kíli gritted out, his voice cold and hard.

Behind him, Tauriel winced and placed a placating hand on the archer’s shoulder. Kíli shrugged it off roughly. “I would hate to imagine what would end up happening if you decided to dine with him,” he sneered. “Or Mahal forbid, if you were to carry a private conversation with him!”

“Stop it, Kíli!” Fíli scrambled to his feet, only to hiss at the sudden, sharp pain snaking up his spine.

“Let me,” Thorin muttered. With a gentle hand on Fíli’s elbow and another supporting his lower back, he slowly guided the other up, exuding all the grace and dignity of a lord despite his dirt-covered hair and clothing.

“Thanks,” Fíli flashed a quick, grateful smile. He turned back in time to catch the deepening scowl on his brother’s face. “Thorin wasn’t lying,” Fíli gritted out. “We were joking around when you found us. Whatever it is that you’re trying to imply is flat out wrong.”

He glanced at the cursed Elf standing silently behind Kíli, and narrowed his gaze at her hand that had found its way back on his brother’s shoulder as if it _belonged_ there. “If anything, I should be asking what the two of you are doing here this fine afternoon.” Fíli’s lips curled into a sneer. “I’m sure you are enjoying a lovely stroll through the garden alone as well.”

Kíli spluttered with outrage. “Don’t you dare try to shift the blame on me! Tauriel and I were actually visiting the garden.” He gestured in a broad, dismissive sweep to Fíli’s mussed hair and stained clothing, “We’re not using it to disguise some – some _indecent_ ulterior motive.”

“Indecent ulterior motive?” Fíli barked out a short, mocking laugh. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what you mean by that?”

“What Cousin Fíli means is that there is a misunderstanding, Cousin Kíli,” Thorin interjected quickly. “I assure you that nobody harbours any indecent ulterior motives towards anybody here.”

The glare Kíli gave to Thorin could have killed a lesser man. “And I think that that’s complete and utter bollocks.”

“Kíli.” Tauriel’s hand tightened a little on the young Dwarf’s shoulder.

Fíli barely felt his nails digging into his palms from his clenching fists as his brother took a half step back to lean into her touch.

“Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding,” Tauriel continued in her damnably calming voice. “We should leave and let them be. We can visit the woods instead, we had a wonderful time the last time we were there.”

“I don’t want to go, not without an explanation,” Kíli hissed back petulantly, and Fíli could feel the vein in his temple throb harder. “I trusted him once and that was a mistake! Who knows what other secrets he’s hiding if you don’t shake them out of him!”

That…that _hypocritical_ , lying little dog turd!

“Oh, this is rich coming from _you_ , Kíli! Clearly, you haven’t been keeping any secrets at all!”

Fíli stomped forward only to be jerked back by Thorin, but he was _not_ done, and damn if he wasn’t going to finish this fight. It was a _thousand_ years too early before he was willing to take that level of bullshit from _Kíli_ of all people. “What right do you have demanding any kind of explanation from me? It wasn’t as if you cared what I was doing before, _so spare me the act_!”

A look of confused hurt shot across Kíli’s face before it gave way to a hardened gaze and anger flushed cheeks, but Fíli could care less. _Good_. Let him feel bad!

“It _is_ my business as your guard to ensure your safety!” Kíli snarled back with righteous fury. “And if you think I won’t tell Dwalin about whatever it is you are up to, then you have another thing coming!”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that superiority horseshit on me – ”

“I’m afraid I must interrupt again,” came Thorin’s raised voice. He tugged at Fíli to get him to step back a few more steps and raised an unimpressed brow when the blond snarled at the manhandling. “Cousin Kíli,” his continued steadily over Fíli’s combative struggling, “your goal to guard your brother is more than respectable but I wasn’t lying when I said I bear no ill will towards him. The last thing I want to do is to compromise his safety.”

“And why in Durin’s name should I believe _you_?!”

“Well for one, I highly doubt I’d be capable of taking him on. My last attempt ended with me cowering fearfully behind a bush,” Thorin deadpanned.

Silence fell over the group, thick and immediate. Fíli stopped his struggling to stare blankly back at Thorin. Even Tauriel looked a little dumbstruck.

“I – ” Kíli furrowed his brow. “ _What?_ ”

Thorin paused, his heavy gaze flitting between the still seething (albeit somewhat confused-looking) archer and the stoic Elf.

Then, as if the rays of sun breaking through a heavy set of storm clouds, his lips slowly curled into a saccharine smile.

“As I was explaining earlier,” Thorin began, his tone smooth and honeyed, “our walk through the gardens evolved into a…ah...minor contest of sorts. That is to say, Cousin Fíli and I had a slight disagreement and we decided to settle it through an impromptu contest of wit, agility and strength.”

Fíli barely stopped himself from snorting.

Kíli likewise eyed Thorin with a healthy dose of suspicion. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Thorin positively lit up in excitement. “Ah, I suppose it is only fair that I start from the beginning!” he grinned bright and happy and, if Fíli’s eyes had not deceived him, a bit smug like a cat that had gotten its cream. “You see, I approached Cousin Fíli in hopes that he would be kind enough to show me the garden. Earlier this week, I had heard from Lady An and Lord Jari rave about the Great Garden of Erebor, especially with the way it was peculiarly designed. Lord Ginnar, in particular, was absolutely tickled by the rolling hills and meandering roads. We don’t have anything of the sort in the Iron Hills, so it was apparently a rather novel sight to behold. But I, on the other hand, was not so easily swayed by their pretty words. I most certainly wasn’t!”

Kíli grimaced. “Where is this going exactly?”

“I beg for your patience, Master Kíli. I will get to the important bit soon enough as you shall see, but all of this is important because it provides context!” Thorin gave a flippant wave in his direction. “Now as I was saying,” he furrowed his brow in mock seriousness, “I said to the Lord Ginnar, ‘Master Dwarf, a garden is no different than any other randomly placed shrubs and trees we have growing in the wild at the foot of our mountain. I fail to see how spectacular a sight that a bunch of growing green plants can make.’ But he only replied, perhaps a bit affronted – and rightly so, I must admit now – that this garden is no ordinary garden since it was lovingly designed by Master Baggins, or as we like to call him, ‘the bravest little Hobbit of them all!’ Are you familiar with that moniker that we have given Master Baggins, Cousin Kíli?”

“Er…yes?”

“Excellent! And no braver Hobbit deserves such a high praise from us Dwarves, I’d imagine. Not after all he has done for the line of Durin. But I digress!” Thorin again waved a dismissive hand, cutting off Kíli before he could interject again. “As I was saying, Lord Ginnar seemed mildly insulted that I was not as impressed as he was by the fact that Master Baggins had a hand in crafting the Erebor Garden. I am ashamed to admit that at the time, I really wasn’t convinced that I could fully appreciate Master Baggins’ handiwork since I was never attracted to growing green things. After all, we Dwarves love the cool beauty of glittering caverns and the warm glow of polished gems. Trees and plants are a bit lost on us, wouldn’t you agree, Cousin Kíli?”

“I – I suppose?” Kíli was starting to look a little flummoxed.

“Yes, most excellent!” Thorin clapped enthusiastically. “So I said to Lord Ginnar, ‘Master Dwarf, I remain unconvinced that I would like the sight of green growing things no matter what you’ve said.’ And Lord Ginnar, being the old shrew Dwarf that he is, happily bet me a keg of ale that I would eat my words once I have seen the garden with my own two eyes. I was confident that I would win this bet easily if I were to simply stroll around the garden by myself, but it would be dishonourable if I had not made an attempt to appreciate the garden to its full extent. That would be an absolute insult to Master Baggins’ effort! After all that he has done for us, the least I could do is make an effort to appreciate Master Baggins’ craft, wouldn’t you say so, Cousin Kíli?”

“Er –“

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought as well,” Thorin nodded, undeterred. “So I figured, well why don’t I at least try to arrange a guided tour? I should find someone who would be more familiar with Master Baggins’ artistry to ensure that nothing would be lost on me. After all, it was the honourable thing to do. Not to mention, if I do win the bet fairly, Lord Ginnar wouldn’t whinge so much. Durin knows how much he likes to complain, him and that miserable codger Lord Loni! Woe beholds anyone who has the displeasure of meeting that old bastard!” Thorin spat on the ground and uttered a quick, well-known prayer to Mahal for dispelling curses.

“Luckily,” he continued all sunshine and happiness again, “Cousin Fíli here has graciously accepted my request and on such a short notice too! Isn’t that right, dear Cousin?” Thorin turned to Fíli, who jerked back at being addressed.

“Right,” Fíli nodded easily. He had absolutely no idea what was going on in Thorin’s tale but he certainly wasn’t about to ask, not if it meant seeing his brother looking more lost and confused by the second. “That’s _exactly_ what happened.”

“Right, _exactly_!” Thorin beamed. Without delay, he turned back to Kíli and began again with gusto, “So Cousin Fíli and I meandered our way through the garden, and I must say, Lord Ginnar was right! Master Baggins has done such a marvellous job. It’s all very green and lush and as I have been told, distinctly Hobbit-ish in style. Of course, I became curious about the Hobbits. Curious creatures they are and if they’re anything like Master Baggins, I’m sure that they are lovely people. I haven’t met any of them save Master Baggins. Say, Cousin Kíli, you’ve been to Master Baggins’ village. How did you find the Hobbits?”

“They’re…uh…a bit skittish?” The dazed look on Kíli’s face had only worsened. “Look, Thorin, this is all good and all – ”

“Ah, that makes perfect sense,” Thorin cut in. “I’ve been told that Hobbits are peace-loving folks. To be a bit wary of the outside world is a healthy instinct for them to develop. I personally can’t imagine what it would be like to live in perpetual fear though, but not every creature could be blessed by Mahal to be strong and hardy!”

“I imagine that our Bilbo is an exception from other Hobbits,” Fíli added quickly before Kíli could open his mouth again. “Apparently, his bravery isn’t highly regarded. He is considered to be an oddball for venturing away from his home. Hobbits like their seven meals a day and their cozy Hobbit holes.”

“Seven meals a day,” Thorin whistled. “And here I thought us Dwarves had everyone beat when it came to having a hearty appetite! I know there was a reason why I like Master Baggins so much, but I digress!” He paused, “Now where was I?”

“We were in the garden,” Fíli helpfully reminded him.

“Right, right! We were milling about at the garden and you’ve made a comment on how it was supposed to resemble the Hobbits’ lands. Naturally, our conversation shifted towards Hobbits and your personal experiences with those…rambunctious Hobbit children.” Thorin sent a teasing grin that had Fíli scowling a little. “We got into a disagreement then, one that was settled through an impromptu contest of aim and agility. I promised to never again mention the rambunctious Hobbit children if you won.”

“And yet here you are mentioning it. Twice,” Fíli mumbled sourly.

“Yes, well that was _before_ I had known of your deliberately hidden, ruthless nature and your ability to rain fresh hell upon his enemies so that was hardly a fair wager to begin with,” Thorin said blithely.

He turned back to Kíli, “Did you know that your brother is utterly merciless? Merciless like those rambunctious Hobbit children!” Thorin clicked his tongue like a disapproving schoolmaster. “I spent fifteen minutes hiding in the bushes to escape the waves of berry projectiles that he had volleyed at me. Fifteen minutes! It was a scarring ordeal, worsened from the way he was basking in his own glory afterwards – ”

“I was _not_ – ”

“ – his maniacal, cackling laughter ringing in the clearing.”

“I did _not_ cackle!”

“I was completely at his mercy.” Thorin shook his head and sighed. “In a desperate gambit to salvage my dignity, I tried to retaliate with my own counter-attack but alas, it wasn’t my cleverest of ideas. All I ended up accomplishing was bowling into Cousin Fíli like a great, big, clumsy oaf. But at least I got him to stop – ”

“By cheating!” Fíli growled out.

“Master Alf, the one who taught me hand-to-hand combat, he would be so disappointed by my poor performance today,” Thorin lamented. He ran a hand through his hair and winced when it snagged in the dishevelled mess. “And look!” he said, distressed, “my clothes are absolutely ruined! And my hair, my beard! If this is what you have to face on a daily basis, then Cousin Kíli, I am not at all envious of your position as the younger sibling to that tyrant.”

“He can be a bit of a prat when he gloats,” Kíli nodded automatically in the face of Fíli’s scowl before furrowing his brows. “So…er –what were we going on about?”

“A defence manoeuvre gone horribly awry,” Thorin clarified with a small wince.

“Oh.” Kíli frowned. A heartbeat later, “Wait! But I saw – ”

“Nothing more than the aftermath of my failed attempt to counter-attack.” Thorin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh,” Kíli repeated. “Um. Right.”

“It was…utterly mortifying.” Thorin confessed. “I humbly beg Cousin Kíli to keep my shameful display away from my Iron Hills brethren. Goodness knows they have enough things to gossip about. Between you and I, Lord Ginnar can be a bit of a prat. Lady An is notoriously bad for perpetuating any story that passed through her ears and oh, don’t even get me started on Lord Jari – ”

“Alright, alright! I understand!” Kíli quickly threw his palms up in surrender. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, just – stop. No more about Lord Gunnar or Lord Jori - ”

“Lord _Ginnar_ and Lord _Jari_.”

“Yes, _them_! Just, stop. _Please_.” Kíli pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop and I promise I won’t say anything, alright?”

Thorin’s eyes brightened. “Cousin Kíli is most kind!” he praised, relieved. “I do apologize for the confusion and for the inconvenience I may have caused you, that was not at all what I had intended, believe you me! I do have the tendency to get carried away with my stories, so I’ve been told. Why, just the other day, Lord Jari – ”

“ _Thank you_ , Thorin, but we – uh – we’re a bit pressed for time.” Kíli quickly interjected.

“Well, if that is the case, then I believe we have kept you here with us for far too long!” Thorin clapped his hand in finality. “I apologize again. It’s just – I have _so much more to say_ , you understand! I mean – ”

“Yes, I understand Thorin but we should _really, really_ be going anyway!” Kíli spoke loudly. “I hope you enjoy your, er –”

“Tour, Cousin Kíli!” Thorin beamed.

“Yes, that. Right.” Kíli flickered his gaze from Thorin to Fíli. “I’m sure Fíli is more than happy to hear your stories though!” he added with a mean little smirk.

That _little_ –

“Thanks, Kíli.” Fíli’s tone was caustic. “Why don’t you go and run off into the woods now? It must be nice having so little to do around here.”

“You –” Kíli bristled like an angry cat. “No, this isn’t worth it.” Turning to Thorin, he said stiffly, “I hope you enjoy your stay, Cousin Thorin.” With a last dismissive glance towards his brother, Kíli spun around in the opposite direction and stalked off.

“That was a nice story you told us,” Tauriel nodded to Thorin, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. “You certainly spared no details, Master Dwarf.”

“I aim to please, Master Elf,” Thorin smirked and dipped his head in polite greeting. “I apologize for not making the introductions earlier. Thorin, son of Dáin, son of Náin. At your service.”

“I have heard of you, Thorin Stonehelm of the Iron Hills. Captain Tauriel of Greenwood,” she inclined her head gracefully. Turning to Fíli, she repeated the gesture, “Prince Fíli.”

Fíli pressed his lips in a thin line and gave a silent tilt of his head in response, just enough to be polite.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Tauriel shifted her gaze back to Thorin, looking more amused than before. “I suppose I’ll leave you to the, uh,” she waved meaningfully at their surrounding before strolling gracefully after Kíli.

Fíli blinked and looked around. He then proceeded to groan. Miserably.

It was utter chaos everywhere. Leaves and twigs littered on top of large patches of crushed grass where the fight had gotten vicious. Large, flattened chunks of fruit dotted the once pristine landscape, their fleshy pulp mingled with dark smears of blood red berry juice. The bush Fíli had landed on had seen better days; half of it was missing leaves while the other was left with broken branches, some hanging limply towards the ground, barely attached to the shrub by the clinging thin films of bark.

Bilbo was going to murder Fíli in his sleep. Probably by smothering him with a pillow or something.

The same thought must have dawned on Thorin from the way his grin had quickly slipped off his face. “Ah,” he said in a small voice. “How many bottles of wine do you suppose I should send to Master Baggins before he forgives us?”

* * *

 

The answer was apparently twelve, plus a large bouquet of apology flowers.

* * *

 

“I meant to ask you,” Fíli whispered to Thorin during dinner after having placated Bilbo’s wrath, “what was that elaborate story you were telling Kíli back in the garden?”

Thorin lowered his half-eaten pheasant leg away from his face. “That,” he said with flourish, “was manipulation and misdirection sprinkled with a few bald-faced lies. The arsenal of the courtesans.” He tore a large bite out of poultry. “And look how splendidly that worked too!” he added after finishing the bite.

Fíli snorted into his goblet.

“Oh, don’t think I didn’t see that! Your disapproval is practically radiating from your person.” Despite Thorin’s gentle admonishment, lips curled into a lazy smile. “Besides,” he added, spearing a piece of glazed carrot with his fork before popping the piece in his mouth, “you helped me with my story.”

“I did,” Fíli pulled his goblet away and grimaced in distaste, the bold taste of red wine still heady on his tongue. “But I think I will leave all the talking to you in the future. I do not have the talent to spin tall tales so effortlessly.” Nor could he stand the dishonesty of it all, to be frank.

Thorin laughed. “Oh, it is a useful skill to have, one that I have learned painstakingly from the Iron Hills court.” He brought another piece of carrot to his mouth, chewing it cautiously. “The court has its fair share of strong personalities,” he said between bites, “these personalities also come with huge, but fragile egos. Dealing with them tends to require creativity and a soft touch.”

“So…more tall tales and empty words?” Fíli asked, only half-teasing.

“You’d be surprised by how many fights one can avoid through misdirection and flattery,” Thorin replied, confident. “If a few compliments here and there can achieve results with minimal effort and trouble, then what is wrong with that?”

He did have a point.

“It’s nothing wrong per se,” Fíli allowed begrudgingly as he polished off the last of the vegetables on his own plate. “But it’s not something I’m used to.” He just wasn’t the type to manipulate people. He would rather deal with his issues promptly and directly. “I suppose, I’d rather not say anything at all if I had the choice.”

Thorin turned to stare at his cousin with surprised eyes. Then, he burst out in delighted laughter. “I forget that Cousin Fili is refreshingly honest. It’s charmingly adorable – oh don’t be like that.” He tutted at Fili’s disgruntled frown. “That was a compliment!”

“It certainly doesn’t seem like one,” Fíli muttered into his plate, flushing a bright pink.

Thorin’s smile only widened. “It is,” he assured warmly. “I do hope you remain unchanged though. It would be a real shame otherwise.”

“I –” Fíli glanced up to see Thorin with a half-smile glancing his lips.

“But, that is neither here nor there!” Thorin propped. “I am much more intrigued by Cousin Kíli’s hostility towards me. I would hope that I haven’t done anything to warrant this level of aggression from him.”

“I doubt anyone knows why he’s been behaving so oddly,” Fíli growled towards his empty plate. He hasn’t understood Kíli’s behaviour for months now. The fight was just adding to the ever-expanding space that was separating them, one that Fíli didn’t know if it could even be fixed, let alone how to fix it. Frankly, he was starting to wonder if he should even bother. “He’s clearly frustrated with me since we aren’t on the best of terms at the moment.” That was a massive understatement. “You just happened to be here at the wrong place at the wrong time to be a target for his anger. I’m sorry about that.”

“Ah,” Thorin hummed, draining the last dregs of his goblet. “At least we cooled his temper with that meandering story though.”

Fíli gave Thorin a wry smile. “That was all your machination, don’t lie. And it seemed like the El – _Miss Tauriel_ knew exactly what was going on.”

“Yes, she seemed to have caught on to _our_ dastardly plan,” Thorin chuckled. “Certainly something interesting to make note of, but for now, I’ll simply leave that alone. Besides, I have something far more interesting to occupy my mind with. I have my own theory to test out.”

“Oh?” Fíli placed his empty goblet on the table and thanked the server who appeared to top up his wine. “Like what?”

“I suspect the real reason for Cousin Kíli’s ire towards me is something very different and infinitely more interesting.” Leaning forward, Thorin cocked his head and peered at the blond, “Oh, you have a little leaf stuck in your hair. Let me.” Gently, he reached over and brushed a stray, golden blond lock out of the way, tucking it behind Fíli’s ear once he had plucked out the little brown leaf. “There you go! Right as rain. And oh, now would you look at that.”

“What?” Fíli threw a glance behind him. He jumped back when he caught sight of his brother glaring at Thorin with dark, murderous intent. “Um, Thorin –”

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Thorin smiled, victory gleaming in his eyes, and he said no more about the matter.

* * *

 

The next few days had passed peacefully in spite of the slow build of excitement that had blanketed the mountain over the upcoming midsummer celebration of Lithe. Although traditionally celebrated back in the Shire, King Thorin was more than happy to allow Bilbo to throw a feast if it meant pleasing his Hobbit while easing away his lingering feelings of homesickness. Bilbo had taken his duty as Royal Party Planner with ruthless efficiency; every banner must be hung with utmost perfection, every flower arrangement must be comprised of the brightest of blooms, and every dish leaving the kitchen will not be served unless inspected by himself or one of the volunteers Bilbo had recruited to help.

“A little higher up, lad!” Nori shouted.

Fíli sighed and obediently lifted his corner of the banner as he was told.

Naturally, he was guilt tripped by _both_ Bilbo and Uncle Thorin into helping with the party arrangements along with all the members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

“Good! Now Kíli, bring your corner down a bit.”

From across the banner, Kíli rolled his eyes and lowered his hold by an inch.

And of course, Kíli had not escaped Bilbo’s attention either, nor was it all that surprising that he was paired with his brother to run their errands together.

“Almost perfect, now Fíli –”

“Nori, we’ve been doing this for the past twenty minutes!” Fíli finally snapped. “The banner is fine as is. Leave it!”

“Fine, fine!” Nori threw his hands up in the air, muttering as he walked away, “The youths of today and their impatience.”

Kíli snorted. “I’d believe him if he wasn’t clearly trying to skirt away from doing any actual work,” he said dryly. He froze as if suddenly remembering who was beside him, and he briskly turned around to begin nailing the banner in tense silence.

Fíli bit back his own sigh of annoyance.

Working with Kíli after their brash attempts at ignoring each other had felt odd, but not because they were constantly stepping on each other’s toes. If anything, they worked together in perfect synchronization without speaking with each other, having gotten so used to reading the other’s body language to know just what the other needs. It was the familiarity that their teamwork had afforded – the ease in which they operated together – that was throwing Fíli off.

Kíli grunted in annoyance. Fíli casted a quick glance over to him, at the hammering job that he had done, and handed the set of longer iron nails that Kíli had sorely needed. Kíli’s eyes flickered to the nails, took them with a grunt, and gave Fíli the hammer that the blond liked for its better grip.

They worked for a few more minutes on their own tasks, silence hanging thick and oppressive between them. Fíli forced himself to focus on the tiny nails in front of him and on the steady noise of hammering with something akin to religious fervour. If he happened to catch a glimpse of his brother’s tense shoulders every now and then, well, none’s the wiser.

“Fíli, Kíli, are you almost done?” Fíli’s attention snapped back to the present as Bilbo walked into the room with a bounce to his steps. He beamed at the sight of the perfectly hung banner. “Well done, lads! Thank you so much for your help. I don’t suppose I can trouble you both with a few more errands?”

As if the Dwarves can say no to Bilbo when the little Hobbit was grinning sheepishly up at them, eyes bright and hopeful like that. “Of course, Bilbo. What do you need help with?” Kíli answered with a small smile as Fíli replaced their tools in a nearby toolbox.

“Kíli, can you help Dori with the banners? He insists on doing all the stitching, but you know how gets. He could probably use someone to collect more supplies for him.” Bilbo shook his head with fond exasperation. “Fíli, can you come with me? I still have to arrange the tables’ centrepieces.”

Kíli gave an easy shrug. “Not a problem at all Bilbo. I shall see you in a little while then.” With a quick clap to Bilbo’s shoulder, the archer strode towards the exit without a second to waste.

Bilbo waved at the archer’s back, lightly rocking on his heels until Kíli’s heavy footsteps faded away before whirling around to face Fíli, his cheery façade dropping like a stone. “Alright, what is going on between you two?”

Fíli stared pole-axed. “What?”

“That!” Bilbo furrowed his brows and waved at the direction Kíli had taken. “The silent treatment between you and your brother. The obvious effort Kíli went through to avoid looking at you. Is this about your fight with Kíli?”

Fíli groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of course Uncle Thorin had told Bilbo about their fight, that old worrywart. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, Bilbo,” he replied mulishly.

“It is not nothing.” The Hobbit clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Your fights with your brother tend not to last past three days at most.” At Fíli’s stubborn silence, he sighed. “Fíli , Thorin and I just want to help and we won’t be able to if you don’t talk to us.”

“It’s not that I don’t want your help,” Fíli started, a twinge of guilt twisted in his chest at Bilbo’s sad look. “It’s just that I don’t want to bother anyone else with our issues.” Durin knows he’s already caused enough trouble with how he handled the suitor business.

Bilbo’s frown softened in understanding. “Fíli, you will never be a bother to me or to your uncle, no matter what circumstance you find yourself in.” He held his hand out to stop Fíli before he could protest. “I won’t force you to tell us anything if you aren’t comfortable, especially if you want to sort things out before telling Thorin. However, as your friend, I am more than happy enough to help or to lend an ear.” He added with a wry grin, “I promise not to tell your uncle anything you want to hold confidential between us, including any embarrassing secrets involving Lord Thrim.”

“Bilbo,” Fíli huffed out a laugh, oddly touched. Poor Lord Thrim had become the target of Thorin’s ire since Thorin had discovered his courting present to Fíli. For Bilbo to suggest hiding anything related to that wretched Dwarf from Thorin is not an offer lightly made; Thorin’s wrath would be legendary if he found out.  

“It’s stupid,” Fíli confessed. He shrugged rather helplessly and looked down at his red stained shoes. The berry war with Thorin had not been kind to his clothes either, despite how much Thorin had complained about Fíli escaping unscathed. “I just can’t help but feel like Kíli doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. He won’t talk to me, not since – ” _the battle where he lay, pale and as still as death in his blood-stained cot, recovering from an injury that should have killed him_. “I tried to let him know that I was there for him even when he wanted me gone. Fat lot of good that did.” Fíli kicked at the ground a little bitterly. “When he got better, he became even more distant and quiet.”

Fíli had clung to the routine of daily activities he shared with Kíli with something akin to desperate fervor. He had hoped to draw the archer from his dark moods through the comfort of normalcy that the familiar activities would bring. In retrospect, his plan had started to crumble when Kíli first began refusing to join Fíli for their afternoon strolls through the markets, then refusing to participate in their twice-weekly fishing trips by the river. The weekly hunting expeditions through the forests and their midday luncheons were the next to go. It wasn’t until their routine had effectively been whittled down to just breakfasts in the morning that Fíli should have realized how futile his efforts were.

Now, he hardly see his brother except for the occasional glimpse during dinner time.

“I decided I shouldn’t tell Kíli about the Suitor Problem because I was trying to spare him from my problems when he was still trying to sort through his own,” Fíli confessed quietly, ignoring the lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his chest instead. “But apparently, that was the wrong thing to do because he took offence to not being told what was going on. This is incredibly unfair.”

Fíli grimaced and shook his head. “It’s not as if he was telling me anything either. He has no right to complain or to expect anything from me, not when he runs off and spends all of his time with that _, that Elf!_ ”

“Is Kíli trying to woo Miss Tauriel?” Bilbo frowned softly.

Fíli scowled. “That is exactly what that little idiot is trying to do! I tried to tell him that that was beyond moronic. Uncle Thorin will never allow that – _Tauriel_ into the family and frankly, I won’t either!”

“Fíli,” Bilbo said evenly, “I can understand Thorin’s distaste of the Elves. However, I don’t understand why you’ve come to dislike Tauriel so much as well. I thought you hadn’t minded her presence when she came to help you and Kíli in Lake-town.”

Fíli opened his mouth to deny but found himself frowning instead in awkward silent. Bilbo had a point. Before this whole debacle, Fíli hadn’t felt any particular hatred towards Tauriel. Although he couldn’t say that he liked her as a friend, he respected her well enough as a skilled warrior and he certainly preferred her over that emotionless, tree-shagging Thranduil or his equally pretentious son.

So what had changed? Aside from being uncomfortably close to his brother, the Elf hasn’t really interacted with Fíli enough to incite the sort of irrational, deep-seated anger he was feeling.

Bilbo hedged on in the same soothing tone, “Can you honestly say that you won’t react the same if Kíli decided to court a Dwarrowdam or another Dwarf?”

A flash of hot pain flared in Fíli’s heart and he quickly reached over to rub his chest. “You think I’m taking my frustration towards Kíli out on Tauriel, don’t you?” he said, suddenly ashamed.

“I think that’s certainly one reason to explain why you’re reacting to Tauriel in such a volatile manner.” The look Bilbo gave him was full of understanding. “I also think that you’re frustrated with yourself for not being able to help Kíli. Kíli has been struggling with his own problems after the battle but since Tauriel appeared, he’s become much more sociable.” At Fíli’s crumpled expression, Bilbo sighed and gently patted the Dwarf on the shoulder. “You are being incredibly unfair to yourself you know. You’ve done all that you could to help.”

The stinging in Fíli’s eyes and the surge of hurt and frustration came back with such a vengeance that he had to look away least he embarrassed himself. He tightened his arms around his chest, grounding himself in the weight of his fingers pressing into his biceps. “Apparently, my best isn’t good enough,” he managed to force out.

“Oh, come here, my dear.” Fíli found himself pulled into a tight, welcoming hug against the soft warmth that was Bilbo Baggins. He immediately sagged against the Hobbit, his nose buried into the Hobbit’s sweet smelling russet curls and his eyes scrunched closed to chase away that damnable stinging sensation that just wouldn’t go away.

“Nobody expects you to solve all of Kíli’s problem,” came Bilbo’s muffled voice somewhere in the vicinity of Fíli’s chest. “I doubt Kíli himself expect you to solve all of his problems.”

“It’s not about what Kíli expects.” Fíli tugged Bilbo closer still. “It’s about what I _should_ be doing.”

Bilbo kept quiet but Fíli found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to explain what having Kíli by his side meant, what it was like to be known as Fíli _and_ Kíli, never one without the other. He had so much pride in knowing that he was there for his brother and that he’d _always_ be there. How can he begin to describe the crushing, gutted feeling for failing something so vital?

How can he describe what it was like only having Kíli in his life when their mother, heartbroken and bitter with grief, kept herself away from them to escape the memories of her dead husband? How can he explain the vital role Kíli played as his sole source of courage when Uncle Thorin, saddled with the task to rebuild their dying kingdom, could not spare the time or energy to soothe Fíli’s fears?

As if sensing his turmoil, Bilbo cooed under his breath and ran his hand over Fíli’s tense back in a steady, soothing motion. “Fíli,” he murmured, “I know how much you love your brother. There is no doubt in my mind that you’ve done everything in your power to be supportive. Sometimes, the most you can do is hold your hand out and hope that the other person takes it.”

Bilbo pulled back enough to gently press his forehead against Fíli’s, his hands lightly grasping at the Dwarf’s arms. “You may be angry and frustrated with each other now, but I know that something like this is not enough to keep you two apart.” The corner of his lips quirked and he added with a touch of exasperation, “Soon enough, you’ll be back to being Fíli _and_ Kíli, twin terrors of Erebor. Woe betides those who cross either of you.”

Fondness flooded through Fíli as warm as the morning sun and he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeves, chuckling. Leave it to Bilbo to see to the heart of the matter. He never stood a chance at hiding anything from the perceptive Hobbit, did he? “I just wish I know what I can do right now.”

“Well, that’s simple.” Bilbo stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back. “You can start with an apology. In the meantime, I’ll go have a talk with that stubborn brother of yours. How does that sound?”

Fíli’s look of gratitude was answer enough.

* * *

 

Whatever wizardry Bilbo had used seemed to have cooled off some of Kíli’s residual anger from the fight. Although they still barely speak to each other, the bitter tension hanging over them have dissipated somewhat. Instead, an awkward sort silence, peppered with fleeting looks and chagrined frowns, filled the spaces between them.

It was an improvement, if one could call it that.

Now if only Fíli could muster the courage to follow through with Bilbo’s suggestion.

“Just apologize to him, you coward,” Fíli mumbled from his seat at the high table as he fidgeted with the crown of blue hydrangeas resting over his brow. His eyes scanned over the joyful Dwarves hovering over the food tables and the laughing Elves and Men crowding the dance floor, until he spotted the unmistakable head of messy brown locks crowned with a ring of daisies.

He quickly looked away before his little brother caught him staring.

Bilbo’s celebration was a success for the most part. Through his tender care for all green living things and through the tyrannical way he had ordered the Company of Thorin Oakenshield about, Bilbo had transformed the Great Hall into a lush garden worthy of envy. Delicate silk banners, hand-stitched (painfully by poor Dori and Ori) with colourful depictions of blooming roses, lilies, lilacs and dahlias, trailed from the high arched ceiling to the floor from all four corners of the hall. Green garlands of ivy and boxwood (painstakingly assembled by the brothers Ur) wrapped around and draped between the pillars bracing the room. Countless potted chrysanthemums, gardenias, and even more roses lined the four walls (Nori had complained loudly about having to lug that many pots in place). The tables were also decorated with large flowering centerpieces, each of them individually designed by Bilbo (and constructed by whichever unfortunate Dwarf that caught his attention).

The venue was perfect, the music was merry, and the food was delicious (thanks to the efforts of Bombur, who was the only one who happily did as he was told). For all intent and purposes, everything should be perfect.

Fíli looked away from his brother in time to see yet another Dwarf freeze mid-step towards him before pivoting around and fleeing for his life. Silently, Fíli turned to his dark, glowering uncle beside him with a raised brow. “Uncle, really now.”

“He was looking at you with ill intent,” Thorin growled out without letting off his death glare at the retreating Dwarf until the poor bastard had scurried out of sight. His eyes immediately snapped to poor Lord Thrim, who had been milling nearby.

The old Dwarf went pale and dropped his mug with a squeak.

Fíli rolled his eyes and reached for his own mug of mead on the table in front of him. The party _would_ have been a rousing success if it weren’t for Thorin’s open hostility towards all the Dwarves he saw as a threat to his blond nephew, Fíli’s own problems with his brother not withstanding.

Bilbo, brave, sweet Bilbo, had tried to calm Thorin’s temper earlier in the evening, first with soft, honeyed words, then with the king’s favourite food by the platter, and then with great tanks of ale. When even alcohol could not distract Thorin from his stubborn anger, (the king had simply accepted the mug with a grunt before continuing to glare at a cowering Lord Thrim over the rim of his cup), the Hobbit rolled his eyes, threw his hands in the air and trudged away to find better company.

Which meant Fíli was left sitting awkwardly at the head table next to his uncle.

Fantastic.

Fíli took another deep sip from his mug to drown out his sigh. Bilbo had managed to abscond a large glass of wine and was busy ranting to Balin, judging by the Hobbit’s fierce frown and the wild, careless way he was motioning with the full glass in hand. Balin managed to artfully dodge the spilled droplets while wearing a look of utmost sympathy.  

Fíli’s gaze fell back to his brother and scowled deeply. Kíli had just spotted Tauriel and his face positively lit up with joy. Just because Fíli knew that his anger towards Tauriel was irrational, it didn’t mean he could stop himself from reacting the way he did.

“I had hoped that the fight would have subsided by now.”

Fíli jerked a little in surprise at the unexpected, gruff comment. He turned to Thorin, “Pardon me?”

“Your argument with your brother.” Thorin threw a slight nod in Kíli’s general direction and continued with a deep frown on his face, “I only came to realize that you have not told him about your suitors from the violent way he reacted to the news.”

Fíli had suspected as much already. Why was Thorin bringing this up?

“Of course,” Thorin grimaced and the anger in his face bled away into something akin to chagrin to Fíli’s mounting surprise, “ _I_ should have realized what was going on in the first place, with both the suitors issues and your action to keep Kíli shielded. I have been remiss in my duty as your uncle.”

Fíli’s eyes slowly widened as the words sank in. Was his uncle trying to _apologize_?

“Uncle, it wasn’t your fault!” Fíli stammered. He quickly plonked his mug back on the table and turned to his uncle. He was the absolute worst nephew in Middle-Earth. Ever since the Battle, Uncle Thorin has been so quick to blame himself over every little bit of failure, and here Fíli was contributing to that. “It’s Kíli and I who are at fault here! I was the one who chose not to tell Kíli and we – ” Fíli winced, “we could’ve done better to resolve this issue afterwards.”

Thorin made a frustrated noise. “And if I had noticed that you were being courted in the first place, this situation would not have progressed to the point where you have stacks of presents that touched the ceiling!”

Oh for the love of – “It was just the one pile and it barely _skimmed_ the ceiling!” Fíli pinched the bridge of his nose. “And besides, how could you have known when I was trying my hardest to hide this from you?”

Thorin just pressed his lips together into a thin line, defiant. Stubborn old Dwarf. At this rate, neither of them was going to concede.  

“In any case, I hope this disagreement would not last long,” Thorin added gruffly. He turned his sombre gaze back to the throng of partygoers. “It is disconcerting to see the two of you apart.”

From the corner of his eyes, Fíli saw a grinning Kíli beckoning a laughing Tauriel to the dance floor. “We’re working on it.”

Although speaking of Kíli – “I’m surprised that you’re finding all this alright,” Fíli added, gesturing towards his brother and Tauriel.

Thorin’s pinched expression was telling enough. “Kíli’s friendship with the Elf is…unusual, but I shall let it pass so long as her tree-shagging king honours the treaty.” Thorin forced out rather painfully.

“Friendship?” Fíli blinked. “That’s not –”

“Cousin Fíli!”

Fíli turned to see his exuberant cousin meander his way to the high tables, cheeks slightly flushed from the heat of the room and the mead he undoubtedly had been consuming. The Dwarf greeted the king with a slightly tipsier bow than usual, before turning his attention back to the blond. “Just the Dwarf I have been looking for!”

Young Thorin was impeccably dressed as usual; his hair and beard were styled with intricate braids, each of them held together by emerald-studded silver beads. His velvet forest green jacket, decorated with silver embroidery and fine silver buttons, fitted snugly over his chest and shoulders. The bottom part of the jacket fell slightly below his waist, leaving the length of his dark trousers uncovered. Silver embroidered boots, polished until gleaming, finished the look.

“What is it that you want now, Thorin?” Fíli asked with a long-suffering smile. It really shouldn’t surprise Fíli that Thorin would seize any chance that he can get to dress up. His time spent with Thorin had taught him that the younger Dwarf was surprisingly vain.

“Why, I am here to greet my dear cousin, whom I haven’t seen since the start of the party! I would love nothing more than to catch up!”

Fíli gave Thorin a disbelieving look.

“I may or may not also be attempting to escape from Lady Gunnold’s incessant blathering.” Thorin added unflinchingly. He leaned in with a cheeky grin, “I was also hoping you’d save this poor Dwarf from having to sit through another round of _riveting_ gossip about Lord Jari’s hideous necklace.” He turned to the amused King, “I hope your Majesty won’t mind me borrowing Fíli for a minute.”

Fíli did not miss his uncle’s soft huff of laughter from beside him. “Carry on,” King Thorin waived a hand at the younger Dwarf, only to suddenly tense up. Bilbo was stomping over with a determined look on his face. It was the same look that he wore just before dragging Thorin into a round of dancing, and Mahal damn it, Thorin was going to _like_ it.

“On second thought,” Cousin Thorin said, his eyes tracking Bilbo’s movement. “I don’t suppose you would mind joining me in hiding elsewhere, Cousin?”

“Not at all,” Fíli said as he quickly pushed himself off his seat. The inkling of guilt was not strong enough to keep him from staying despite his uncle’s hissed plea to ‘ _Get back here, don’t leave me alone with him!_ ’

But just in case if Uncle Thorin genuinely needed help though – He gestured to Dwalin, who was standing guard from across the room.

Dwalin glanced at the King, at Bilbo, and shook his head vehemently.

Well, at least he tried.

Beside Fíli, Thorin chuckled. “Smart Dwarf. He’s got a good sense of self-preservation!”

Fíli snorted. “Dwalin will probably out live us all. Where are we going anyway?”

“I hope you don’t mind a bit of fresh air. I found the perfect balcony spot when I was exploring earlier this month.” Thorin flashed a quick grin over his shoulder. “It offers a fantastic view of the East. More importantly, it is located close to the buffet table, and far, far away from Lady Gunnold.”

“It is important to have priorities in life,” Fíli nodded solemnly.

Just as Thorin described, the balcony was blissfully empty save for the few torches casting their amber glow along the wall in the dark of the night. Fíli leaned over the railing, palms brushing against smooth, weathered stone, and breathed in the cool, crisp mountain air. The familiar scent of pine trees tickled his nose, and he felt his muscles relax under the perfect tranquility that had surrounded him. Back when he lived in the Blue Mountains, the window in his old room faced a lush, expansive evergreen forest. The occasional breeze would send the delicate smell of fresh pine into his room, and the smell would coat the sheets of his bed, his pillow, and his clothes.

He always found himself sleeping easier during windy nights.  

“You can see home from here.”

Blinking out of his reverie, Fíli turned towards a grinning Thorin.

“You see that dark, jagged-looking bit in the distance?” Thorin pointed towards the horizon. “You have to squint a little to make it out, but that right there is the Iron Hills. It’s odd but I think I am starting to miss it, just a little.

"What’s even more strange is that I find myself missing the most mundane things,” Thorin continued, chuckling. “I miss my own bed, and I miss my daily routines. I miss having time to read in the mornings, knowing that the courtiers won’t notice whenever I am not present.”

“I thought you liked being around the courtiers,” Fíli said as he leaned back against the railing. Thorin always seemed so composed and playful when dancing around the other lords and ladies. It puts Fíli’s awkward fumbling to shame.

Thorin shrugged. “I don’t hate it, and I know I am good at handling myself in social situations. I do find this to be a tad exhausting after a while though.”

Fíli supposed that Thorin had a point. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like being surrounded by a flock of gossiping Dwarves day in and day out, constantly having to be on the lookout for veiled barbs and hidden motives. He couldn’t imagine having to learn how to strike with artful lies, to feign with false flattery, to parry with disguised insults – it all sounded like such a pointless waste of energy.

“I’m assuming that the Iron Hills courtiers are, er, less…you know? Lively?” Fíli asked.

“They are certainly are. In their defence, having the opportunity to spend time in Erebor in the presence of Thorin Oakenshield and his company would make any Dwarf lively.” Thorin paused and grimaced. “I stand corrected - most Dwarves are less lively. Lady Gunnold and Lord Jari’s boisterous nature remain the same as always, unfortunately.”  

Fíli winced. “I’ve had the misfortunate of witnessing Lady Gunnold’s boisterous nature in the form of her courting gift.”

“Did she write you one of her love stories?”

“How did you – “

“She does that. It’s one of her hobbies,” Thorin said rather impatiently. “But more importantly, was the one she sent you any good? How long was it? Which characters did she use?”

Fíli looked at Thorin suspiciously. “I haven’t read it past the first paragraph, but I’ve been told that it featured myself and the Lady in the story. Why are you so curious anyhow?”

“Oh, um,” Thorin coughed uncomfortably into his fist. “It’s just, I’ve been told by someone that her writing makes for a decent read, and all.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Something to do with her writing prose, her ability to craft wonderfully complex worlds in her story, her well-fleshed plots, her well-timed humour, her excellent characterization of – why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem oddly knowledgeable,” Fíli said, biting back his smile. “Why Thorin, if I were to guess, I’d say you’re a fan of her love stories?”

Fíli’s grin grew at the stubborn, embarrassed silence.

“ _You are a fan!_ ” Fíli crowed. “Is that what you meant by your morning reading time? So that you can indulge in her work?”

“There is nothing wrong with liking her work!” Thorin defended, but Fíli noticed that he wasn’t denying Fíli’s accusations either. “So what if I like my reading material to be light-hearted?”

“There is certainly nothing wrong with that, but your love of romantic comedies explains your obsession with ‘The Eternal Love of Fulla and Buri’! It explains _so much_!”

“'Fulla and Buri’ is a Dwarven masterpiece as I have said countless times! It is a gem, loved by generations of – ”

“Young adolescent Dwarves!” Fíli laughed mercilessly.

Thorin spluttered. “It is loved by _many_ different kinds of Dwarves, Dwarves of all ages!”

“It is loved by young adolescent Dwarves who like to fawn over the cool, stoic beauty that is Buri, whose skin sparkled like, like _diamonds_!” Fíli guffawed.

“I am never telling you anything ever again,” Thorin muttered under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are cruel and you hate good literature. You are the worst.”

It took a good few solid minutes before Fíli could catch his breath, and by the time he could control the last of his laughter, Thorin had hunched over in an obvious sulk with his back towards Fíli.

“Oh, come now, I didn’t mean any harm.” Fíli prodded a finger against his cousin’s shoulder blade, retreating quickly when his cousin shirked off his touch. “If it makes you feel better, you’re the only one besides Kíli to know about our, er, misadventure with the Hobbit children.”

Thorin, the little bastard that he was, brightened up at the reminder.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Thorin puffed out his chest a little. “I suppose I can consider this a fair trade – you know one of my more, er, peculiar habits while I know the horrible embarrassment you went through while looking for Master Bilbo’s home. Fair’s fair.”

Fíli rolled his eyes. Let it be known that his cousin’s pride is definitely a weakness. “Peculiar habits. Is that what they call embarrassing hobbies nowadays?” Ignoring his cousin’s squawk of outrage, he straightened up from his lean on the balcony railing and brushed off any residual dust on his body. “We can discuss more about your obsession later. I, for one, want to take advantage of that food table. We should be safe to venture back inside now that Bilbo has gotten his way.”

He further ignored his cousin’s quiet grumbling of “It is not an obsession!” and strode inside, Thorin scrambling behind him.

The party was finally in full swing. Music and raucous laughter filled the air as Dwarves, Elves and Men took to the center of the Hall, dancing to a familiar, jaunty tune that was distinctively Hobbit-ish. Fíli smiled softly when he finally caught sight of his uncle and Bilbo among the throng of dancing partygoers. It seemed like Thorin had finally decided to join in the merrymaking from the delighted laughter bubbling out of Bilbo that could be heard above the noise.

“Durin’s beard, here comes Lady Gunnold.” Thorin hissed. “We should make a run for it!”

“Too late for that,” Fíli had just enough time to hiss back before the Lady flounced over, her large, red, velvet gown swaying as she moved.

“My Lord Thorin and – oh, Your Highness!” she gushed and curtsied low, so low in fact, that Fíli caught more than an eyeful of her full cleavage and ample bosom, and the sultry look she sent him.

He quickly averted his gaze and barely suppressed a full-bodied shudder.  

“Lady Gunnold, I see that you’ve found me,” Thorin replied, bright and cheery. He stepped forward and discretely nudged Fíli behind him. “I hope you don’t mind if we can continue our conversation at another time? Cousin Fíli and I were feeling a bit peckish and –”

“Why, what a coincidence! I was about to head to the buffet myself! Shall we?” Lady Gunnold interrupted. She held up her hand, her palm facing towards the floor, and looked at Fíli expectantly.

Thorin stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed the back of it in a practiced motion. “It would be my pleasure! This way, if you please.” He threw a wink at Fíli when the Lady was not looking.

Fíli took back every single mean thought he had of his cousin.

“It is my absolute pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, your Highness!” she said, twisting around to look at Fíli who was trailing behind them. If it weren’t for Thorin forcibly guiding her forward, she would have lunged for the blond. “I have been wishing for an opportunity to speak to you!”

“Er – thanks?”

“I have heard the songs of your heroic deeds sung a hundred times, and I never cease to be amazed at the amount of bravery you’ve shown at recapturing Erebor. Oh bravo!”

“I – er –”

“You must tell me how Smaug –”

“My dear Lady,” Thorin cut in, “Let us talk about something less dreary than that cursed beast, something like the buffet. And oh, would you look at there, we’ve reached the buffet table!” He unceremoniously dropped his hold on Gunnold. “Please excuse me and my cousin –”

“Your Highness!” came another voice. Fíli did not manage to hide his groan of despair as three other Dwarrowdams elbowed their way in front of him.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance! I am – “

“Your Highness, I was wondering if you could honour me with a –“

“Your Highness, I have so many questions to ask! How do you like your tea? Do you like written works? What is your favourite time of the day?”

“Excuse me,” Lady Gunnold said coldly, and Fíli jumped a little having briefly forgotten about her. “I believe I was speaking with His Highness first. One must remember to retain a level of,” she sniffed, “decorum. Least one risks giving off the wrong impression.”

“Lady Gunnold, I thank you for your kind advice,” one of the Dwarrodam – a tall brunette with a handsome face – sneered out. “I am humbled by the generous way you drop pearls of wisdom even when unprompted.”

The other two Dwarrodams twittered in laughter, high and mocking.

“I must admit that my generous nature is one of my flaws, but only because I have the capacity to be generous,” Lady Gunnold countered, unfazed. “I shall, however, endeavour to reign in my generosity to risk offending those that have…less of a fortune than I.”

Thorin hedged closer to Fíli. “Now would be a good time to run,” he muttered, and Fíli gave a small nod. He was going to stop the petty squabbling before it can ruin the party that Bilbo had worked so hard on.

“Actually, I think that it’s about time for me to retire for the night,” he called out. He placed his hands behind his back to disguise the way he had balled up his fists in anger. They were so disgustingly petty. How could Thorin stand them? “Please enjoy the rest of the evening and it is a pleasure to have met all of you.”

With a curt tip of his head, he spun around and strolled forward –

Only to be intercepted by a small flock of advancing Dwarves.

“Really?! Oh for the love of – ” He pivoted left, Thorin following close behind him, and scanned the room frantically for the guards, for Dwalin, for anyone and _where in Middle Earth did everyone disappear off to?_

There! Blessed, dependant Dwalin was leaning against his post, seemingly in deep conversation with a blushing Ori beside him.

“Dwalin!” he managed to call out just before –

“Your Highness! I see that you’ve spoken to Lady Gunnold, but I would like you to ignore her preposition. I have always admired you!” an older, podgier Dwarf said in a booming voice. Thorin immediately jumped in front of Fíli. “I understand that you’ve returned my gift. Was it not to your liking? I can do better!”

“Don’t listen to that bloody idiot,” a new Dwarf forcefully hauled the older Dwarf behind him. “Your Highness, I can provide infinitely more than any other Dwarf in this establishment. What is your heart’s desire? I will grant it!”

“Sod off, Loni, nobody is interested in your lies!” came a random cry from one of the Dwarves stalking towards Fíli from the right.

“Your Highness!” a new Dwarf managed to shuffle forward. Fíli’s chest tightened from all the oncoming Dwarves, waves and waves of them with sinister hunger in their eyes like

_the endless stream of Orcs and Goblins that were rushing down the mountain. Their bellowing cries echoed in the valley as they chant for blood, for carnage, for death and destruction, for King Thorin’s head. Above them, war bats swarmed the skies, pitching the battlefield in darkness, and their screeches adding to the cacophony of sounds, of clanging weapons as the front line surged forward against the Orcs to fight a losing battle._

_Oh Mahal, they were all going to die, they were going to die, they were going to –_

“Cousin Fíli!”

Fíli blinked, and before him stood Thorin with his back towards him, his arms spread wide to keep any Dwarves from stepping too close.

“When I say run, do it.” Thorin gritted out.

“But –”

The sound of chanting Orcs, _no they are Dwarves, the battle is over,_ hit him at once:

“Please accept this gift from this humble Dwarf! You will make me –”

“Oy! If he’s giving gifts, then I want to as well!”

“I thought we had a pact against gift-giving!”

“Well clearly, nobody is following that anymore. All Dwarves for themselves!”

“Your Highness!”

“Prince Fíli!”

“My Prince! I am your greatest admirer!”

“Fíli!” came an order, loud and clear, “Run!”

And Fíli bolted.

He dove under the buffet table, dimly registering Dwalin and his guards storming forward to help Young Thorin, and rolled out from the other side, jumping to his feet and sprinting away as fast as he could. Distantly, he heard an angry roar – Uncle Thorin, his mind supplied – but he brushed it aside, focusing on zigzagging past another flock of eager Dwarves. He needed to find the exit. _Where was the bloody exit_?

A hand grabbed his left arm and he instinctively let his right fist fly. He cursed when his fist met empty air, the momentum of his swing sending him careening towards the person holding him. Another hand gripped him on his shoulder to stop him from crashing painfully into the person.

“Let me go!” he thrashed against the hold. “Let me go!”

“Fíli! Fíli! Calm down, it’s me!”

“I – ” the voice was achingly familiar. “Kíli?”

Slowly, the image of his brother focused in front of him. Kíli looked dishevelled; his daisy crown was missing and his hair was in complete disarray. His face was twisted with worry.

“Kíli?” Fíli croaked out again.

The archer gave him a shaky smile. His tight grip on Fíli lessened slightly. “That’s right, it’s me, Fíli. I have you, Fee. You’re safe, now. Do you hear me?”

At Fíli’s minute nod, Kíli relaxed his grip some more. “Good,” he breathed, “Good. Now, let’s find ourselves an escape route. How does that sound?”

Fíli felt himself being tucked tightly against his brother’s left side as Kíli threw a protective arm over his shoulders. Step by step, he felt himself being steered to the exit by Kíli, who would sometimes pause to bark muffled orders at nearby soldiers to fortify their defence. Fíli couldn’t really tell when they had managed to leave the banquet hall, or travel back to the Royal Wing. He was only focused on putting each foot forward at the soft flutter of his brother’s heartbeat.

Hadn’t he done something similar before? When he was out in the battlefield and

_Kíli was bleeding. The arrow had managed to lodge in Kíli’s chest and down he went with a choked, wet gurgle rising to his throat. But in his own stupidity to rush over to help his little brother, Thorin had tackled him to the ground and took a sword blow to the back to protect him. He remembered pulling himself from under his uncle, his motion clumsy from the slickness of the blood soaked ground beneath him. Somehow though, he managed to half carry his uncle to safety before doubling back for his brother, but at the time, all he could focus on was placing one foot in front of the other carefully so he wouldn’t jostle the precious people he was carrying._

“We’re back,” Kíli murmured, and since when did Kíli ever murmur, let alone to Fíli of all people? “Let us get out of these fineries, shall we?”

Gently, Kíli lifted the hydrangea crown off of his head - _Huh, the crown had stayed on his head all this time. How peculiar –_ and placed it on what Fíli recognized as their breakfast table. When the archer reached to unbutton the first set of buttons on Fíli’s tunic, Fíli gripped his brother’s hands to stop him.

“I – I can do this,” he uttered, and reached for the buttons with shaking hands – _have they always been shaking?_

“Fíli, let me help. Mahal, you’re still shaking like a leaf.”

“I,” Fíli choked. He was an embarrassment. Not only had he inconvenienced everyone both during the Battle and with the Suitor Problem, he had dragged his cousin Thorin into the fray by having the Dwarf effectively act as his second bodyguard just now. He had to rely on his brother to save his skin, the very same brother he had spurned by being irrational and by being a complete asshole just because he couldn’t handle his weird separation anxieties from said brother. Worst still, he hadn’t figured out what was bothering Kíli. Instead, it was Kíli who was the one comforting him now.

He couldn’t handle his own affairs, he couldn’t help his little brother, and now, he couldn’t even unbutton his own fucking tunic. And he was supposed to be the Crown Prince of Erebor.

What a colossal joke. He was a colossal joke.

“I’m the worst,” Fíli managed to choke out as realization hit. His eyes were stinging something awful, and that lump in his throat had only gotten bigger. Damn it. “I’m the absolute worst.” He looked up at Kíli with watering eyes, and breathed out, “I’m _so, so sorry_ , Kee.”

Fíli heard a small wounded sound that his brother made right before he was pulled to Kíli’s chest in a bone-crushing hug. And because he was pathetic on top of being the worst, all he could do was bury his face into his brother’s familiar warmth as he kept shaking, and shaking.

“You are not the worst, and you have nothing to apologize for, Fee,” he heard Kíli grit out, but with reverence. “You are not the worst, and I will kill anyone who makes you think that. You are not the worst.”

Fíli shut his eyes and wished he could believe those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: There was a lot to cover in this chapter. First, there was Young Thorin and Fili's relationship that required more fleshing out so that the rest of this fic will work. Second, there was Kili and Fili's fight that needed resolving (cue Bilbo and, to a certain degree, Thorin). Third, there needed to be actual interaction with Bilbo and with Thorin, because they're wayyyy too important to remain as silent characters. And fourth, the whole Suitor Problem business needed to go to hell in a hand basket for plot reasons. 
> 
> So...hopefully, I covered my bases and have done so in a respectable manner? :D As always, I love reading your comments so please let me know what you think. Next update will occur whenever the hell life is not kicking me in the ass.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. Apologies in advance.

Fíli woke up with a pounding headache as if a Troll had hit the back of his head with a club.

Gritting his teeth and keeping his eyes firmly shut, he forced his leaden body to roll to his side, only sighing in relief when his face pressed against soft warm cotton. Gingerly, he nuzzled against the source of comfort and breathed in the familiar scent of cinnamon and cloves exuding from the cloth.

“Fee?" a familiar voice asked. "Are you awake?” 

Fíli tightened his grip on the fabric – Kíli’s cotton sleeping shirt, clearly. 

"Fíli?" The voice hitched. 

Fíli clenched his eyes shut and bit back the wave of shame cresting over him. Dimly, he was well aware that he was clinging to his little brother like a limpet, and what a pathetic sight he must be making if his little brother sounded that worried. 

But on the other hand, he was just so _damned tired_.

Between the whole Suitor Problem, his fight with his brother, and the party being an utter disaster, everything that could have possibly gone wrong did despite his very best efforts to keep the damage to a minimum. And damn had Fíli _tried._  

Apparently, it was all in vain, so why even bother anymore?

Strong, warm arms wrapped around him tightly and pulled him closer to the heat source, gently maneuvering him until his head rested on top of a sturdy chest. Fingers ran through his hair, slow and rhythmic like the steady heartbeat under his ear.

"It's alright Fíli. Shhhh. It's alright. It's alright." The grip on him tightened when he shuddered violently at the tender words. 

Fíli kept his eyes shut lest the stinging threaten to overwhelm him and breathed. 

* * *

He drifted back to consciousness when the pillow below him shifted. 

“Fíli? Fíli, you awake?"

 _No,_ he wanted to answer. He stayed silent instead. 

A sigh, then - "You should eat something, it’s getting late.”

Fíli did not deign to respond.

"Fíli, please -"

“Not hungry,” Fíli muttered into the fabric of Kíli’s shirt. 

It was easier to ignore the soft sigh this time around. "At least let me get you some water?" 

A soft knock on the door shattered the quiet stillness in the room. Fíli felt himself go tense on reflex.

"Shit," his brother cursed under his breath. “Fíli, do you mind letting go for a bit? It will only take a second.”

Fíli stubbornly held on and said nothing.

“It will only take a second,” his brother soothed. "It will only take a second and I promise I will come right back." Hands gripped around his waist, shifting him up until a pair of soft lips brushed against his forehead, the fleeting sensation of warmth ghosting over his skin. “I promise, Fee.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Fíli nodded. 

  _It will only take a second. It will only take a second._

The mantra circled his head as he cracked open his eyes to watch Kíli gently wriggle out of his grip, peel back the covers, and gingerly padded over to the door.  

“Good afternoon, Cousin Thorin. Thank you for bringing this to us.” 

He turned his back towards the door. 

Logically, Fíli knew that he couldn’t stay laying in bed forever. At some point, he will need to leave his room and deal with the piling problems awaiting him. He would need to apologize to Bilbo for ruining his party, to Uncle Thorin for making him worry, to Dwalin for having to step in and clean up his mess –

“ – do not think that he’s ready yet. Maybe try again tomorrow. Can you tell the others –”

And to Cousin Thorin for literally throwing himself in harm’s way so that Fíli could escape. If it weren’t for his cousin, Fíli would have continued to stand there in shock like the idiot that he was.

Durin, he made a complete mess of _everything_.

"- I know. Not much we can do but to let him rest, I reckon - "

Fíli tugged his covers over his head. He would also have to apologize to Kíli for taking care of his business, especially with the way Fíli was acting to him and to Miss Tauriel.

After all the harsh words he had flung to his brother's face. 

Durin's beard, he was the worst.

The door shut with a soft click. “Fíli?” Kíli’s voice was back to being soft and hesitant. Fíli cringed beneath his covers. “Cousin Thorin brought us something to eat.”

And because Kíli knew Fíli well, he added, “It’s got bacon in it.”

“’m not hungry,” Fíli mumbled again, only to be foiled by his stomach growling at the tantalizing smell of meat. Damn it.

“Fíli, I can hear your stomach growling.” Light footsteps drew closer to the bed. “Fíli,” a warm hand rested on his shoulder and shook him gently. “Come now, get out of there.”

Fíli barely had the chance to brace himself when the warm blanket covering his head was slowly pulled back, and a rush of cool air hit his face.

“There you are,” his brother’s gentle grinning face swam into view. Fíli couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother smile at him like that. Certainly not before their fight, not at the healing tent in the aftermath of their battle where – _What are you doing here?!_   _Leave me alone, Fíli! Go -_

“Why don’t we have some of this together?”

Fíli blinked at the plate of food in front of him. His brother looked back, hopeful.  

He groped for a nearby pillow and buried his face in it to drown out the sight.

“Fee." He felt the bed dip. "I’m not going to go away until you eat something."

When he remained silent, the voice turned pleading. “At least eat a little? I promise to stop nagging if you eat just a little.” A pause, then, “ _Please_ , Fee.” 

Fíli could never refuse his brother when he sounded like that.

The blond lifted the pillow off his head, wincing at the bright light around him. He shimmied upright, his brother's hand helping to steady him, until he was leading against the headboard, propped up by a small mountain of pillows. 

He took the plate that was handed to him. Eggs, pancake and bacon. Normally his favourite, but he doubted that he would taste anything other than ash. He took a tentative bite of the bacon strip, anything to stop his brother from staring at him so earnestly.

They spent a few minutes in thick silence, punctuated by the sound of Fíli’s mechanical chewing.

“Bilbo isn’t blaming you. Nobody is.”

Fíli paused and stared at his brother. Kíli gave him a wavering smile, “Bilbo wants you to know that he is available whenever you want to speak with him. He won’t accept your apology though since there is nothing for you to apologize over.

“Uncle doesn’t blame you either.” At that, Fíli dropped his gaze to his lap. “Uncle is mad that those Dwarves would have the nerves to approach you the way they did. If anything Uncle is offended for you. He’s expelled all those who were bothering you at the party.”

“Please give Uncle my thanks,” Fíli managed to force out over the lump of shame in his throat. He was just proving himself to be a continuing source of disappointment, wasn’t he? Again, he had to rely on his uncle to step in and solve his problems because he was too weak to stop the suitors, because he froze like a coward.

He should just keep himself well out of everyone’s way until this whole business is well and truly over. He could make himself scarce, maybe hole up at the library and keep Ori company, or maybe he can –

“No.”

The curtness of his brother's tone jolted him out of his thoughts. “What?”

“I said no,” Kíli repeated, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed in annoyance. He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you want to  thank Uncle Thorin, you can do it yourself once you feel better. Consider it an incentive for you to get you out of bed.”

“I –” Fíli paused. He dropped the half-eaten bacon on the plate, and pushed it out of the way, feeling sick to his stomach again. “I don’t – I –”

Kíli’s expression softened. “You can’t stay here forever, Fíli,” he said, not unkindly.

“I know,” Fíli brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He placed his head on his knees. “I don’t know if I can talk to Uncle Thorin.”

“Why can’t you?”

How could Fíli even begin to explain the numerous ways he had failed then and now?

“All I’ve done is cause him trouble,” Fíli mumbled into his knees. “Every thing that I’ve tried to do ended up in a disaster.”

Like his attempt to keep Kíli safe during the Battle, but he wasn’t fast enough, good enough to stop that arrow from piercing into –

_The cry of pain jerked his mind away from the fight and he spun around helplessly to find the source of the noise. He turned around just in time to see his brother clutching at the dark arrow shaft protruding from his chest, his face pale and his expression frozen in shock. Red rivulets, thick and cloying, spilled between Kíli’s fingers, staining his hand and his chest a vivid scarlet, and Fíli could only stare as the patch of blood beneath his brother’s hand bloomed larger and –_

_Oh Durin, please no – please no, nonono –_

_“Fíli!” someone screamed his name, before a familiar weight crashed against him –_

“I almost got Uncle killed then,” Fíli whispered in a horrified hush. He balled his hands together until he could feel his nails dig painfully into the flesh of his palms, and he could see his knuckles turn bone white. “My incompetency almost got us all killed in that battle.”

His incompetency as a fighter had left him unscathed while his brother and uncle remained bedridden for months in a dingy healing tent. His incompetency at handling the Suitor Problem had created a mess for the Company, one that his Uncle ultimately had to step in and clean up.

His incompetency as a brother had sparked the fight between Kíli and him, and it had led to his proud noble uncle blaming himself and _apologizing_ to him of all things.

Durin, what good was he to anybody?

He drew in a ragged breath, anything to distract himself from the mortifying stinging sensation in his eyes and the mounting pressure in his chest. “How can I look Uncle in the eye when I can’t do anything right? When I’ve been inconveniencing him with my failure?” He was so tired of being so painfully lacking as a prince, as a nephew, and as a brother.

He was the worst. The absolute worst. And the harder he tried, the worse he achieved, so why should he even bother anymore?

He clenched his eyes shut. “Just go and leave me alone, Kíli.”

But Kíli refused to budge. Instead of hearing the sound of retreating footsteps, Fíli felt himself engulfed in a tight bear hug. The rich, warm scent of cinnamon and cloves returned with a vengeance, soothing the bone-deep pain of bitter self-loathing. 

“Is this what it’s all about? You don’t think you’re good enough, and you’ve been blaming yourself for everything?”

Kíli took his silence as an affirmative and cursed under his breath. “Stupid,” Fíli would hear Kíli utter as he tightened his grip around the blond, “by Durin’s beard, I was so stupid. I got this all wrong.”

“Kíli?” he asked in a thick voice.

Kíli drew back, keeping himself at an arms length away from his brother, looking utterly crushed. “Fee, what happened during the battle wasn’t your fault! And neither is this whole suitor disaster!”

Fíli shook his head, and looked away. “If only I was better, then you and Uncle wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the battle, and –”

“That’s horseshit!” Kíli spat out. “We were surrounded and outnumbered. We were lucky to get out of that battle alive! You did everything you could, and Uncle could not have been more proud! If anything, I was the one who was consistently incompetent!” 

“What? That’s not true!”

“I got shot twice by Orcs.” Kíli chuckled, dark and self-mocking and nothing like the bright-eyed youth from the Blue Mountains who wanted nothing more but to travel the world with his brother and uncle. “I held you back during the journey and in the battle. If it weren’t for me, you would have gone to Erebor instead of staying behind in Lake-Town. If it weren’t for me getting hurt in battle, you wouldn’t have gotten distracted and, Durin’s Beard, Fíli! You almost got killed because of me!”

“Kíli, I never thought that you were holding me back, not even once,” Fíli breathed, wide-eyed. He quickly wiped the corned of his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. What kind of a big brother would I be otherwise?”

“I should not need protecting, Fíli! That is the point!” Kíli’s face twisted into a grimace as he ran a distracted hand through his mussed hair. “I have been trained for battle since I was little, and I should be able to handle my own fights. Besides, the last thing I want is for you to think that you can throw away your life to protect me from my own shortcomings!” The brunet shook his head and added bitterly, “I can’t stand it. I won’t stand it!”

Fíli sat in stunned silence as dawning realization started to trickle into his head.  

Was this deep-seated feeling of inadequacy haunting his brother as much as it haunted Fíli? Come to think of it – “Is that why you didn’t want to be around me anymore? Did you find my presence annoying?” Fíli croaked out. Did Kíli see Fíli’s presence as a painful reminder of his own inadequacy?

“What? No! That’s not - It’s not that I don’t want to be around you, Fíli!” Kíli exclaimed, his hands went back to gripping Fíli tightly by the shoulders. “I just – I needed time to sort myself out first, to prove to myself that I can do better. I don’t want you or Uncle, or anyone to have to sacrifice themselves for me ever again.” Kíli looked away with a grimaced. “I wanted to grow stronger, but I needed to do it on my own terms,” he confessed softly. 

“So you went to Miss Tauriel,” Fíli said evenly despite feeling wounded.

Kíli bit his lips and nodded. “I did. I initially went to Tauriel because she offered to help me improve on my archery. In return, I thought I’d show her Erebor. After getting to know her, I just - I _wanted_ – ”

“You grew to like her.” The familiar ache in Fíli’s chest flared bright hot, enough to burn away the tangled roots of shame that had ensnared his heart, but he forcefully suppressed it down. He was being irrational and _now was not the time –_ “Why didn’t you tell us you were looking for help?”

Kíli let go of Fíli with a wince and shrugged helplessly. “I – I didn’t want anyone to know that I was getting help,” he mumbled. His hands were fiddling nervously with a piece of loose thread on his shirt. “I didn’t think anyone would understand. I know how much Uncle doesn’t like the Elves.”

Kíli dropped his gaze and chuckled mirthlessly. “Uncle is only trying to be civil because of Bilbo, but I know how he really feels and…I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. I didn’t want anyone else to be disappointed for that matter.”

He didn’t want Fíli to be disappointed went unsaid, but Fíli knew his brother and he knew what he had really meant.

Fíli knew more than enough about the fear of disappointing people.

“I’m so sorry, Fíli. I’m sorry that it came off like I was avoiding you. I guess I was just so angry at myself that I ended up being such a snit to you, didn’t I? I didn’t even notice that you were struggling with your own problems, and I left you to deal with the battle and the suitor issues on your own.”

Kíli shook his head and added softly, “Some brother I turned out to be.”

It would take a stronger person than Fíli to hold on to that last thread of anger.

Fíli’s arms flew around his brother and dragged him into a ferocious bear hug as pure unadulterated relief coursed through his veins along with the desperate need to protect, to comfort. He buried his face against Kíli’s shoulder, refusing to loosen his hold even when his brother returned the hug in equal fervor.   

“’Not your fault. Think nothing of it,” he muttered. “For the record, I do not and have not, for one second, think you’re weak. You’re not a hindrance, Kíli. Far from it.”

The irony of this situation was not lost on Fíli either. All this time, Kíli had been pushing him away because he was trying to prove to himself and to Fíli that he could handle his own situation. It was just like how Fíli was trying to prove to Uncle Thorin that he could handle his own problems so that Thorin will never have to get hurt on his behalf again.

How had he not recognized that Kíli’s actions were a mirror image of his own was beyond him. He was an idiot.

 _Scratch that_ , he thought when his brother latched on to him just as tightly, _they were both such idiots._

“Protecting you is not a job, Kee, and I don’t do it because I think you’re weak,” he bit out with conviction. “I do it because I’m selfish and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Kíli gave a watery chuckle. “How do you think Uncle Thorin and I feel about you, you idiot?”

* * *

Later, much later, when the two of them have cleaned up some and were lying side by side in bed, they managed to reach a compromise.

“I promise I will talk to Uncle Thorin,” Fíli gave his brother a weak smile.

Kíli levelled him a look. “Because you haven’t failed at anything, not as the Crown Prince, as a nephew, or as a brother.”

“Because I haven’t failed,” Fíli dutifully recited with an indulgent smile. “And you promise to stop blaming yourself?”

“Oh, talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” Kíli snorted, but at Fíli’s raised brow, he wilted. “Fine, I promise to stop blaming myself. And I promise to talk about my frustrations.”

Fíli nodded. “Agreed. And I as well.”

They passed a few moments in comfortable silence.

“Kee?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry with the way I responded when you told me about Miss Tauriel.” Fíli forced out. The instinctive, familiar bubble of hurt and anger threatened to well up again, but he swiftly pushed the tangled mess of emotions down. “I was just…so frustrated with how much time you were willing to spend with her. It was stupid of me.”

He paused and chewed his lips as his thoughts simmered in his head. “I – I can’t say I understand why you chose her, and I can’t say I like it either,” he admitted, slowly, hesitantly, “but for your sake, I will at least try to be more understanding.” Even if it felt like a noose was tightening around his heart whenever he saw his brother with the Elf.

“Thank you, Fee.” Kíli’s lips quirked up in a small, grateful smile. “And I’m sorry for not telling you why I was running off to Durin knows where.” His smile turned into a grimace. “I don’t think I can apologize for acting less than courteous to Cousin Thorin, though. I just can’t stand him for some reason.”

For the first time in days, Fíli burst out in genuine laughter, free from the dark thoughts looming in his head.

* * *

Even though Kíli had said that nobody blamed him, old habits die hard, and Fíli still took it upon himself to apologize to his friends and to Uncle Thorin. For the most part, they waved it off with a smile before asking how _he_ was doing instead. Dwalin, however, not only refused to hear a word of Fíli’s apology, he immediately went down on one knee, his back bowed, and profusely apologised for failing the prince. He only got up when Fíli insisted that no, Dwalin, he was not going to hand out any punishment to him or his men, no he was not demoting anybody, for Durin’s sake, stop kneeling and stand up already!  

Uncle Thorin had gripped Fíli’s shoulders with both of his hands, and scrutinized him from head to toe with anxious eyes. He let go when Fíli seemed well, breathing a soft sigh of relief in the meanwhile.

Cousin Thorin reacted the most differently out of the group when Fíli found him lulling about in the Erebor Gardens one sunny afternoon.

“Apology accepted. I’m glad to hear that you appreciated my bold attempts to act as your meat shield against the flock of my frenzied clansmen.” He puffed out his chest a bit. Fíli did not buy the haughty act one bit; he had not missed the genuine look of relief on his cousin’s face when he approached the brunet. “I see that you are doing well though, so all’s well that ends well.”

“I am sorry for making you worry, Thorin,” Fíli grinned at his cousin’s mild affronted look for daring to call him out on his feelings. “And thank you for bringing me food while I was in my room. That was thoughtful of you.”

“Well then. One of us has to act sensibly.” Fíli barely hid his smile as he watched a flustered Thorin cough in his fist. “You do realize that this could have all been avoided if you followed my plan from the beginning, yes?” 

“What plan?”

Fíli and Thorin both spun around. Kíli was strolling towards them, seemingly in a nonchalant manner if not for the suspicious glare directed at Thorin.  

Fíli had forgotten that his brother was lurking about guarding nearby.  

“Cousin Kíli! I was wondering when you’d decide to stop hiding from the shadows and join in on our conversation!” Thorin greeted jovially.

“I was doing my duty by guarding my brother, Cousin Thorin.” Kíli made his way beside Fíli and gave a stiff nod to the other dark haired Dwarf. The smile he gave Fíli was much warmer. “Now, what was this plan that you wanted my brother to follow?” he asked with a dangerous glint to his eyes.

If Thorin was bothered by Kíli’s presence, he did not show it. “When I first met Cousin Fíli, I have presented to him some plans that were meant to control the frenzied behaviour of the Dwarves – “

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘when I first met Fíli?’” Kíli interrupted sharply. “Does that mean you knew about this suitor business all along?”

Thorin paused, visibly caught off guard by Kíli’s quick uptake of the situation. “I did, yes,” he finally admitted.

Kíli’s expression darkened. “ _Then why on Middle-Earth did you –_ ”

“Kíli, it’s true that Thorin warned me about the suitors, but it’s not his fault,” Fíli interjected before Kíli’s anger could boil over. Thorin had already taken a half step back, no doubt reacting to his instinct to save his own skin. “I was the one who chose not to listen at the time. He tried to warn me on several occasions, in fact. It’s not his fault that I was being stubborn.” He placed a placating hand on Kíli’s tense shoulder, just in case.  

“Besides, the plans sounded like they were lifted out of romance novels. They would not have worked,” Fíli added with a smirk.

“Maybe to those who lack imagination,” Thorin grumbled. He turned back to the archer. “To answer your question, Cousin Kíli, I had come up with a two-part plan. The first part involved some…delicate manoeuvring.”

“What does that mean?” Kíli scowled.

Fíli sighed. Kíli was not going to like this. “He suggested that I flit around from Dwarf to Dwarf, lavishing my attention on as many different people as possible.”

“So that they would perceive each other as competitors and turn their attention towards each other in their blind fit of jealousy,” Thorin justified just as Kíli opened his mouth to protest.

“Which is a terrible plan,” Fíli pinched the bridge of his nose. “First of all, I don’t flit. I don’t like to make small talk – ”

“But certainly, you can – ”

“Secondly,” Fíli added forcefully with a grimace, “I do not like to manipulate people like that, or give them a sense of false hope. This all seems unnecessarily cruel and I will not be purposely cruel to serve my own needs.”

Thorin sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “And herein lies the problem, Cousin Fíli. You are honourable while your opponents are not. Sometimes, a little bit of craftiness goes a long way.”

 “You said that there were two parts to this plan,” Kíli cut in, frowning. “What’s the second bit?”

Thorin gave a mean little chuckle. “Why, the second part of my plan involves holding a massive tournament where the now desperate and frenzied suitors have to fight each other for a chance to court Cousin Fíli. With any luck, they would take care of themselves.” The smile on Thorin’s face turned positively evil. “The last Dwarf standing gets to fight King Thorin.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Huh.”

Scowling, Fíli whirled around to face his brother. “Kíli, _no_.”

“It’s not a bad idea, Fee,” Kíli said grudgingly. “I’m not too sure about that first part of the plan, but that second one could work. Uncle Thorin would probably be more than willing to fight those Dwarves. He would probably enjoy the process too.”

“I am not asking the King to fight for me like I’m some maiden whose honour needed defending,” Fíli said flatly. “Also, need I remind you that this plan is highly risky, and I am not comfortable with it?”

“In order to be rewarded with success, one must take some risks. Not like any of this matters now though.” Thorin shrugged. “Cousin Fíli has opted not to follow the plan. It’s a bit late to throw a tournament, now that the remaining suitors have learned to act with caution to avoid raising the king’s ire. Nobody would be insane nor reckless enough to challenge each other in open combat for the prince’s affection.”

“Thank Mahal for small mercies,” Fíli breathed. “At least we’ll finally get some peace and quiet around here.”

Thorin gave him a wry smile.

* * *

“So I trust that you finally resolved your fight with your brother?” Cousin Thorin asked Fíli later at dinner. They were seated beside each other at the high table in their usual spots, surrounded by a plethora of roasts, sausages, and other meat dishes. Cousin Thorin was dressed as fashionably as always with his russet tunic, dark leggings, and boots made from Mûmakil hide. “You look considerably less miserable than usual. Not to mention, Cousin Kíli’s mood has brightened as well. He seemed to have eased off the death glare aimed at me.” He popped a piece of steak in his mouth and hummed at the flavour before adding, “It’s refreshing not to feel such hateful intent directed at my back for once.”   

Fíli peered at his brother, and sure enough, Kíli was speaking animatedly to a bemused Bilbo with his back turned towards them. “We made amends.” he answered with a shrug. He went back to his meal, slowly cutting up his own steak in bite sized chunks. “And Kíli’s not that bad. He’s just being protective is all.” At least, Fíli was fairly certain that Kíli did not hate Cousin Thorin _per se_. “Besides, if you hadn’t insulted me so brazenly when we first met, Kíli would have treated you with far less suspicion and ire.”

“I did not insult you!” Thorin said, affronted. “I gave you a compliment! I said that you reminded me of a majestic, golden lion!”

“You said you were expecting more majesty from me, but instead, you got ‘a sulking Dwarf throwing wistful doe-eyed looks at the Elves.’” Fíli retorted as dry as the desert between bites of his food. “Then, you proceeded to rattle off the names of my stalkers, laugh at my face, and disappear into the crowd with a final ‘Good day!’ and more mocking laughter.”

“I’ll have you know that that wasn’t meant to be mockery. I was simply saying hello while giving you some friendly advice.” Thorin sniffed. “This is what we do in the Iron Hills. Had I known that Erebor Dwarves were so sensitive, I would have approached you with more formality. Besides, I apologized for starting off on the wrong foot!”

Fíli rolled his eyes. “In any case, now you understand why my brother was reacting the way he did.”

Thorin hummed. “Nope, I don’t believe that is the sole reason for his reaction,” he disagreed breezily, his bad mood seemingly having dissipated like vapor. “I believe his dislike for me runs _much_ deeper than that.”

“And you have no intention of telling me what you think, do you?” Fíli sighed, because of course, he won’t. 

“Of course not!” Thorin parroted his thoughts with a toothy, shit-eating grin. “Now where would the fun be in that?”

Fíli must have spent too much time with the little bastard because he felt nothing but warm fondness spreading in his chest from that response. He supposed his cousin will tell him if it was anything important. “Anyway.” he shook his head. “I owe you my thanks for, as you said, ‘acting as my meat shield against your frenzied clansmen.’ I hope I haven’t caused you too much trouble with them.”

Thorin waved his hand dismissively as he polished off the last of his meal. “Oh, there’s the usual grumbling but it’s nothing that I can’t manage. Do not spare another thought for that. But if you must find a way to thank me, I don’t suppose you can recommend more things for me to do than to frolic in the gardens or to swing a sword in the training yard? I find myself oddly bereft of entertainment.”

* * *

“When you asked me for recommendations, I did not expect to be dragged to the library.” Fíli nimbly sidestepped a tower of books, ones that Ori and the librarians had not yet sorted, and doggedly followed his cousin’s brisk pace past the numerous shelves. “Again, why do you need me here for this?”

Thorin abruptly stopped and spun around, “Because you are as bored as I am and are itching for something to do,” he answered, tone dry and matter-of-fact. “More importantly, I just remembered that your literary knowledge is lacking, so I have made it my goal to rectify that. Now, where do you suppose we can find the works by Farin, son of Fundin, son of Floi?”  

Fíli groaned, but gestured to the shelf to his right. He had spent enough time with Ori, (and had heard enough of his friend’s rants about proper record keeping and storage), to know how the library was organized. “I am not reading romance novels, Thorin, no matter how much you swear by them.”

Sniffing, Thorin strolled to the shelf and began browsing through the rows of weathered, leather-bound tomes. “They are a literary classic,” he replied mulishly. “I also refuse to have another one-sided conversation about the literary arts with you.”

Fíli rolled his eyes. “I find it hard to believe that you have not found other like-minded individuals who share your passion. Talk to them instead!”

“While you are correct in your assumption, I grow bored of their presence and their insipid conversation,” Thorin said dismissively. “Ah ha! Found it!” He plucked out a slim, brown book from the tightly packed, organized row of texts and presented to Fíli with flourish. “We can start with this. It is short and simple to digest.”

Fíli eyed the book with suspicion but tentatively grabbed it from his cousin. “You are sounding an awful lot like Balin, and no, that was not a compliment. Are we finished here?”

“Of course not, I have drafted a list of texts we must retrieve.” At Fíli’s pained groaning, he pressed his lips into a thin, displeased line, and stalked to the next aisle. “Patience is a virtue, Cousin mine,” he uttered.

From the corner of his eyes, Fíli could see his guards slouching a few feet away to provide his cousin and him some privacy. One of them fought valiantly to stifle a yawn.

Fíli could relate almost too painfully. Aside from a few people mulling about, the library was dead quiet. Even Ori was not present that day. 

“Where is Cousin Kíli, by the way? I haven’t caught sight of him amongst your guards.”

Fíli blinked back into attention, and shifted from his spot, looking away from Thorin. “He is – uh – busy today,” _with Tauriel,_ “and I did not wish to impose on him any further than I did these past few days.” _He promised to be more supportive of his brother’s courting attempt, he promised to try. Whether or not he hated the idea was irrelevant._ “I thought he should have some time to himself.” _He respected his brother’s wishes, but Durin, for his own peace of mind and for the sake of maintaining the peace with his brother, he hoped he would not see Kíli with the Elf._

Thorin waved at Fíli to follow. “Would it have anything to do with Miss Tauriel was it?” the brunet asked under his breath once Fíli was beside him. “I have seen the two together frequently. Not to mention, the two of them were together during that – ah – Garden fiasco.”

Fíli hunched into himself and mumbled, “Yes, he is spending time with her.”

A brief, uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Thorin skimmed through the titles on the shelf. Then, “I can imagine your discomfort,” Thorin said, quiet and sympathetic, “After all, it is most…unorthodox for a Dwarf and an Elf to be as…close as they are.”

Fíli sighed. Of course, Thorin would have seen the nature of Kíli and Tauriel’s relationship as it truly was. His cousin was too clever for his own good. “I am trying to adjust to the idea,” Fíli said instead. “I promised that I would be more understanding and I intend to honor my words.”  

Thorin nudged his shoulder and gave him a warm, broad grin. “I would not expect any less. You are as kind as you are majestic, Prince Golden Lion.”

Fíli felt his cheeks warm. “Be quiet, you,” he hissed out. His flush and his scowl deepened at his cousin’s muffled laughter. “One day, I will decree a ban on using that stupid nickname.”

“Then we will simply have to be more creative,” his cousin snickered, his attention back on the shelves. “Ah, found another one!” He bent down, pulled out a red tome, and handed to Fíli. “Anyway, I am merely surprised by his willingness to part from your side, especially with how he disapproves of my association with you. I thought supper was a fluke.”

“He is trying to adjust to your presence around me. Lay off of him,” Fíli groused. He grabbed yet another book from Thorin’s hand and add it to the growing collection in his arms. “Besides, this arrangement only bodes well for you. As you have said, no more heated glares behind your back.”

Thorin turned and threw a saucy wink at the blond. “And I get all the opportunities to spend more quality time with my lovely cousin. What fun!”

The heat on Fíli’s face came back with a vengeance. “Lovely?!”

Thorin’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh yes, my lovely Prince Charming.” At Fíli’s full-bodied cringe, he stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle his snort of laughter. “No?” he added, his voice quivering, “How about the Lion of Erebor?”

“Please stop.”

“Prince Lion of Erebor?”

“Now you are just being lazy.”

“Wait, I think I got it – _Golden_ Prince Lion of Erebor the Charming!”

“And I am walking away now,” Fíli deposited the books on the floor and stalked away from the sound of more poorly concealed laughter. “Lest I catch whatever madness that is plaguing you.”

“While you are running away, please look for Sanâzyung by Borin, son of Balin, son of Dwalin!”

Despite the grumbling under his breath, Fíli dutifully dragged himself to the appropriate section of the library, bypassing a few sleepy-looking librarians on the way. “Sanâzyung,” he repeated to himself.  He paused and ran his fingers lightly along the spines of the books. “Sana – sana – by Borin – and nope, it’s not here.” Fíli wiped the dust from his fingers on his tunic. He could ask one of the librarians to check for him but he’d risk them actually finding the damned thing.

Some things should remain hidden.

“Ah well,” he muttered dryly to himself. He tried. Effort was expended. “What a damn shame –”

“ – utterly disgraceful, that Thorin Stonehelm!”

Fíli paused.

“I heard that –” the harsh whispering lowered. Fíli stepped closer to the shelf. “ – defended the – “ more inaudible whispering, “ – betraying his own – definitely uninvited!”

Slowly, Fíli parted the books until he could peer through the space between them. He could barely make out the three Iron Hills Dwarves clustered together in the next aisle. Their neatly coiffed heads were bent towards each other, deep in conversation.

“He wasn’t wrong to defend the prince given that they are cousins,” the Dwarf whose back was closest to Fíli muttered.

“No, but he burned many bridges that day,” a second Dwarf retorted in a nasally high voice. “You should have heard what Lady Gunnold had to say. She swore up and down that Stonehelm cost her the chance at marrying the Dwarf of her dreams. She’s practically baying for blood.”

“Who cares what she wants?” the third Dwarf scoffed. “The King practically threw her out on her arse!”

“She’s not the only who’s holding a grudge though,” the second Dwarf retorted, “I reckon Lord Dain will be getting an earful from his courtiers once they trek back to the Iron Hills if he hasn’t already heard about what went on.”

The first Dwarf shook his head. “I’m not envious of Stonehelm.”

“Aye. He’s certainly fallen out of favour, even with those who were not expelled from Erebor.”

Fíli backed away until he could no longer hear the conversation, until he was up against the shelf behind him, but he barely registered it with the thoughts swirling in his head and an unsettling feeling in his gut.

Just how much did he cost his cousin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [AN] I AM BACK! Thank you to those who are still hanging around to read this fic. I honestly was not expecting this fic to be this complex when I first conceived the idea behind it but it seemed to have run away from me. Regardless, I intend to finish writing Of Risks and Rewards.
> 
> I am more than relieved that we're approaching what I hope to be the final arc to this story. At the very least, we can all breathe a sigh of relief that Fili and Kili have stopped being little shits to each other.
> 
> As always, your comments are greatly appreciated and serve as a motivating force for me to write. Thank you in advance for reading and for reviewing.
> 
> [1] Mûmakil hide - hide from an Oliphaunt. In my head canon, I imagine Cousin Thorin to enjoy leather made from the skin of more exotic animals. He can be vain like that. 
> 
> [2] Sanâzyung - roughly translated as perfect or pure or true love. Courtesy of writer6608 on tumblr for the definition. I thought this to be an appropriately cheesy name for one of the novels that Thorin was so fond of reading. Fili was less than enthused by the title, let alone at the prospect of having to read the actual literary work. Hence, the zero fucks that he gave while looking for the book, haha.   
> 
> [3] Cousin Thorin intentionally dragged Fili to the library when it was quiet. This was done out of consideration for Fili's recovery from the party fiasco. He figured that the last thing Fili wanted was to face a crowd. 
> 
> [4] Ori was away because he was having his afternoon tea with Dori. He was trying to test the water and see how Dori would react at the idea of him courting Dwalin. Little did Ori know, Dori and Nori made a bet with each other as to when Ori would finally 'fess up about his less than subtle crush on the warrior Dwarf.
> 
> Dori won the bet. Nori thought Ori would confess a month later. He underestimated his little brother's tenacity.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed. Apologies for mistakes in advance.

The unsettling sensation in Fíli’s chest grew larger and larger with every passing glare, sniff of disdain, and haughty looks discreetly directed at his cousin.

Not like Thorin seemed at all affected by his clansmen’s behaviour. He continued to laugh just as loudly at his own jokes, his teasing remained relentless, and his wit was as sharp as ever.

For all intent and purpose, Thorin remained unfazed.

“I don’t understand how Farin’s work can be considered a masterpiece!” Fíli had exclaimed one sunny afternoon as they meandered through Bilbo’s garden. The light mountain breeze had picked up the scent of roses that were just coming into bloom, and gently carried it across the manicured lawn on which Fíli and Thorin were walking. It did nothing to quell Fíli’s annoyance at having read Thorin’s recommended novels, which, for the most part, amounted to nothing more than melodramatic tripe featuring deeply annoying characters. 

Case and point – “Everyone in his book was so horrendously callous, condescending, and _shallow!_ ” Fíli continued his rant. Frankly, he suspected that Master Farin had based all of his characters off of that walking prick Thranduil, which begged the question – why? “I felt no sympathy towards any of them, and I simply did not care whether they lived or died! It brought me no pleasure reading about their problems!”

“But Cousin! The characters’ unlikable qualities reflect a certain level of realism as to how people truly are,” Thorin defended just as passionately. “Farin’s work serves as a refreshing contrast to the myriad of insipid, one-dimensional characters that have dominated Dwarven literature for far too long! The author should be commended for taking the risk to write something bold and different!”

“That’s not an excuse for writing unlikeable characters! The author could have easily written something novel with characters that are less horrible. Instead, as a reader, I am held hostage – Thorin?”

Thorin’s gaze snapped back to Fíli, and he jerked to attention. “Apologies Cousin,” he said with a rueful grin, “my mind wandered for a second. Could you please repeat what you said?”

From the corner of his eyes, Fíli spotted a group of Iron Hills Dwarves – a flurry of beaded braids and colourful tunics – passing them by. They visibly turned away from Thorin with disdainful sniffs.

Thorin’s grin had not wavered.

Fíli had to give his cousin credit where it was due – Thorin Stonehelm was a fine actor.

It did not mean that Fíli was not disturbed by this situation though.

* * *

“This is all my fault and I need to fix it, but I don’t know what to do, Kee!” Fíli buried his head in his arms on the breakfast table, jostling the fork by his elbow. “Thorin would not be facing so much animosity had he not stepped in to defend me!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” came Kíli’s dry response along with the sound of his fork scraping across his near empty plate. “His personality alone is enough to attract a certain level of animosity towards his person.”

Fíli lifted his head enough to give his brother a dirty glare. “You are not helping.” He promptly buried his head back into his arms with a soft, defeated groan.

There was a long-suffering sigh and a second later, Fíli could feel his brother’s hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. His shoulders automatically relax under the warmth of his touch.

“Look, this is most definitely not your fault, Fee. The blame lies entirely on the pettiness of the other Dwarves who could get angry at someone defending their family member.”

“Be that as it may, if I hadn’t stupidly wandered off –”

“Not your fault, Fee.” This time, Kíli’s tone was firm. “Had they not been so brazen and disrespectful, Cousin Thorin would not have had to step in.”

At Fíli’s stubborn silence, he tsked disapprovingly. “One of these days, I will break you out of your habit of blaming yourself for things beyond your control.”

Fíli snorted a quick, self-deprecating sound and pulled himself up from his slouch. He propped his head in his fist, his elbows on the table. “Regardless, I still wish there was something I can do.”

“Have you spoken to Uncle?”

Fíli nodded. “Uncle informed Lord Dain of the circumstances that caused Cousin Thorin’s sudden unpopularity in court. Lord Dain was rather approving of his son’s actions.”

Kíli shrugged, picked up his fork again, and dug into the remnants of his breakfast. “At least Cousin Thorin will not have to deal with his father’s wrath,” he said between shovelling forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth with gusto, clearly unperturbed by Thorin’s perceived struggles. “He would also be protected from the animosity of the Iron Hills Court when he returns home.”

“But he remains vulnerable in Erebor.”

“Fee, as much as it pains me to say this, Cousin Thorin is clever and well-versed in handling his kinsmen,” Kíli pointed out with his fork in hand. “He can take care of himself.”

The uncomfortable truth settled like lead in his stomach and Fíli grimaced. Of course, Thorin could take care of himself. Fíli of all people knew that, especially after having experienced Thorin’s more manipulative tendencies that no doubt stemmed from his upbringing in the Iron Hills court. Cousin Thorin was trained to be a skilled politician with his quick mind and silver tongue. Surely, he was taught how to defend himself against any attacks made to his person, and, if all else fails, weather the storm of chaos.

In comparison, Fíli must have seemed like a bumbling country Dwarf who could barely keep up with his surroundings, inexperienced and hopelessly honest that he was. He certainly felt like he was a woefully inadequate opponent when facing the slippery characters of the courtiers. If it were not for his cousin’s not-so-gentle prodding, Fíli had no doubt that this Suitor Problem would end in an even bigger disaster.

The truth of the matter was that Fíli had very little to offer Cousin Thorin in terms of his help.

But that did not mean he shouldn’t at least try to do something.

After all, for all of Thorin’s annoying theatrics, his cousin had always tried to protect him in his own funny way, even when it meant bodily throwing himself in front of Fíli like a meat shield. Loyalty like that is hard to come by and it deserved all the reciprocation. The years spent trying to recruit Dwarves for their quest to reclaim Erebor had taught him that lesson above all else.  

A deep slow sigh of resignation pierced through the haze of Fíli’s thought-filled mind. He glanced up only to catch his brother frowning in annoyance. “I cannot stand it when you get all mopey and sad.” Kíli gave a general hand wave at Fíli’s slouched form. “I have an idea. I suppose if you were to openly show your support of him, you would do well to deter the others from trying anything rash.”

Fíli blinked. “Kíli?”

Kíli looked like he had swallowed some recalcitrant lemons, but forced out, “What I am trying to say is maybe, you should consider spending more time with him. In public. For everyone to see.” He finished the last bit of that sentence with a particularly unflattering grimace.

“But you don’t like us spending time together,” the blond said slowly after a few more seconds of stunned silence. Mahal wept. Was Kíli telling Fíli to be _nice_ to Thorin, of all things?

As if reading his thoughts, Kíli’s scowl grew fierce. “I don’t like the little bastard one bit, and I hate it even more that you are paying him any attention!” He grabbed a piece of toast and violently slathered strawberry jam on it. “But! I suppose I can try to be more kind to him. He did help you escape, and he brought food for you afterwards, which, I suppose, was a thoughtful gesture.”

The archer took a vicious bite of the toast. “For the record, I want to help you, not him. That is the only reason why I made my suggestion.”

“Kee,” Fíli said, oddly touched.

“In all honesty, I cannot even begin to understand what you see in him,” Kíli continued his grumbling with his mouth full. “How can you even stand to be around him and his…his pompousness, and his insufferable need to preen himself. Not to mention, the way he talks, his mannerism and his _stupid, overtly intricate braids_ –”

“Kíli, really now – ”

“And those ridiculous shoes he likes to wear, and his _face_ –”

“His _what_?”

“And let’s not forget, those poncy, flouncy, horribly _garish_ – ”

“Kíli!” The blond laughed. “I thought you were trying to be kinder!”

Kíli huffed. “Try, being the operative word here.”

“Well, thank you for trying, Kíli,” Fíli said with a soft, bemused smile. Try to be kind. Just like how Fíli was trying to be kinder towards Tauriel. It looked like the both of them have their work cut out for them though Fíli suspected that his brother may come out as the winner. His brother, though quick to anger, had always been quicker to forgive and forget.

It really was only a matter of time for Kíli to warm up to Thorin. With luck, he may even become good friends with the cocky bastard.

“Mahal help us all when that happens,” Fíli breathed out in sobering horror. The combined damage those two can wrought will be short of devastating.

“Hm?” Kíli paused, utensils in hand. The amount of food on his plate had grown substantially from the few slices of jam-laden toasts to a veritable mountain of gluttony in the brief seconds Fíli had looked away. “What was that, Fee?”

Fíli shook his head and gave a weak chuckle. “Nothing, just had a terrifying thought is all.”

* * *

Armed with a new mission, Fíli wasted no time in marching off to find his wayward cousin after breakfast. 

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” Thorin practically tittered from his sunny spot on the bench in Bilbo’s garden. He had a leather-bound book opened in his lap with the maroon cover facing up, and a cooling mug of deep amber tea beside him. “What brings you to my lair today?”

“I will be sure to tell Bilbo that you called his garden a lair,” Fíli replied, tone dry. “I was wondering if I can interest you to some friendly sparring? Although I would hate to distract you from your…” he leaned forward and squinted at the cover of the opened book: _The Eternal Love of Fulla and Buri._ Urgh. “…literature,” he finished with much hesitation and even more disdain.

Thorin shot him a dirty look. “This is a Dwarven classic! If you had bothered to read it to the end, you would not be making that face.”

“I don’t need to.” Fíli shrugged and rocked on his heels. “This being a Dwarven classic means one of two things – the story either ends in horrible, gruesome tragedy where everyone dies in a fire, or the protagonists live happily ever after.”  

Thorin opened his mouth to retort only to pause, perplexed. “Well. You’re _not_ wrong,” he muttered grudgingly. “Still, there is more complexity to _Fulla and Buri_ than merely a story with a fiery, tragic ending!”

“Complexity that you can explore at a different time.” Preferably when Fíli is far, far away, doing something more riveting like watching paint dry. “So…is that a yes to sparring then?”

To Fíli’s surprise, Thorin’s brows furrowed in concern. “Cousin,” he started slowly, “I understand the need to shake off the restlessness that grips us every now and then, but is sparring…the best option right now?” He casted a furtive look at the guards standing attention nearby.

As the meaning of Thorin’s words fully sank in, a surge of embarrassment welled up in Fíli, mixed with annoyance. “I have sparred in worst conditions and Kíli isn’t my keeper, so you can stop looking for him,” he snapped. Besides, Kíli was spending time with that el- _Miss Tauriel_ that afternoon.

Thorin held out a placating hand and instinctively leaned away with a wince. “I only ask because I worry, Cousin. I mean no offence.”

Fíli kept up his glare but could feel the knot of annoyance in his mind unravel. Cousin Thorin undoubtedly knew that Fíli will not react well to this conversation; for his cousin to surge forward despite this knowledge only showed the depths of his concerns, especially given his tendency to dance around the issue with tall tales and false flattery.

He breathed out through his nose in a short sigh. “Thank you, Thorin, but your concern is unnecessary and unwarranted. I had sparred with Dwalin numerous times after the Battle without feeling any negative repercussions.” Sure, his zealous enthusiasm for these sparring sessions had Balin and Dwalin a tad worried, but neither had felt the need to stop him, not with Uncle and his brother lying still as death in their healing tents, not when they understood all too well the bitter grief that threatened to creep into Fíli’s mind if given a moment of respite.

At the very least, Fíli knew that sparring won’t incite the same response as he had at the Party.

The warm weight of Thorin’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his light reverie. “If you are certain, Cousin,” Thorin said, the tentative frown not leaving his face. “However, I reserve the right to stop the moment I sense something is wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Fíli insisted. “Now, shall we?”

Thorin sighed dramatically and slowly let go of Fíli. “I suppose we shall. Besides,” he closed the book and leered, “I have been dying to know whether the stories of your battle prowess hold any water, _Lion of Erebor_.”

* * *

 

For all of his floundering and theatrics, Thorin took surprisingly very little time to get ready. Within half an hour, the two find themselves in the blessedly empty training yard, circling each other with their swords drawn and leather armour donned on.

Thorin smirked, smug and loose-limbed as he gave his short sword a few practice swings. “Cousin!” he shouted across the field with gusto. A wholly unnecessary gesture given that the training arena was empty and Fíli was _right there_. “You may be more experienced with a sword, but I promise you, I will not make this battle easy!”

Fíli stopped testing his own grip on his twin swords to roll his eyes. Yeesh, was he this cocky and stupid when he was young? “Try not to cheat like you did with our berry throwing contest,” he drawled out instead.

Then, he lunged for the kill.

Later, when asked, Thorin would vehemently deny letting loose a shrilled yelp as he brought his sword up in time to parry Fíli’s blow. Now, Fíli could only concentrate on the weight of his sword striking another and the deafening clang of metal hitting metal that drowned out the rest of his cousin’s outrage. Quick as a whip, Thorin sprung forward to deliver his own strike. He swung his sword up towards Fíli’s chest only to meet air as the blond twisted away with little effort.

“That was – You just came at me! Without warning!” Thorin squawked. He ducked the swing in time for the sharpened steel to pass harmless over his head. “Oy! Watch it! You could have taken off a braid!”

“What a shame that would have been,” Fíli muttered dry as the desert but never letting up. He whirled around, slashing his twin swords at the space his cousin had occupied a second ago, his blades singing in his hands. “If you have time to complain about your braids, then I clearly have to try harder.”

Ignoring the yelps of protests, he pressed forward with nimble feet. One slash, two slashes, three – he delivered a flurry of quick cuts, never overextending like Dwalin had taught him. Thorin was fumbling to evade his onslaught of attacks and could only defend himself with side swipes that barely halted his blows but to Fíli’s surprise, the little bastard was grinning in absolute delight.

 _No,_ Fíli narrowed his gaze and felt his pride sting a little, _this just won’t do_.

He feinted to the left, springing forward and thrusting his right sword towards Thorin’s heart. He watched Thorin’s eyes widen and brought his sword to his vulnerable side on instinct.

Perfect.

He swung his left sword towards Thorin’s unguarded right side, stopping inches away from his body. Thorin realized too late; he froze, mid-swing, as the naked metal held him in check. 

“That is one point for me,” Fíli smirked, pulling away. “Perhaps you should start taking this match more seriously, Cousin.”  

Thorin gaped with his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. He was heaving. “I –this was supposed to be a friendly spar!”

“It is a friendly spar,” Fíli shrugged and lowered his blade, his lips curling a little. Unlike his cousin, he was only slightly out of breath. “I didn’t lob off your braid, now did I?”

Thorin let out a sharp, breathless bark of laughter. “No, I suppose you didn’t!” Shaking his head, the brunet grinned, white teeth flashing. “Shall we make this best two out of three?”

Fíli arched his brow and gave him an answering look before hefting his swords to battle position.

Best two out of three became best three out of five, then four out of six. They danced around each other, gliding across the training ground, exchanging blows as each became bolder at parrying, thrusting, slashing. Thorin may have had a slow start, but he was improving in leaps and bounds. He even managed to score a handful of points for nicking Fíli in the arms and legs.

 _He’s good,_ Fíli realized, bringing his left sword down in a lazy arc. His cousin batted the swing away and pushed forward in a smooth motion. Fíli may have more battle experience but Thorin was adapting rapidly. No doubt his nimble mind was aiding him to strategize quickly to make up for his disadvantage.

Thorin would make a formidable foe, that is, if he stopped being so skittish every time Fíli came close to taking off one of his beloved braids.

Fíli ducked at Thorin’s wide swing towards his torso and counterattacked with a strike of his own. His gaze narrowed when his cousin beamed at him when they made eye-contact.

Correction, Thorin would make a formidable foe if the little turd stopped being such a sassy little –   

Bright laughter cut through Fíli’s focus like Orcrist through a foe, and Fíli’s head jerked to the sound of the noise. From the corner of his eyes, he could just make out two figures, one tall auburn-haired Elf leaning close to her smaller companion as if to whisper a secret. One of her hands reached over to grasp his shoulder in a gesture that spoke of closeness.

“Tauriel, you _wouldn’t_!” Kíli – and it couldn’t be anyone else but him from the sound of his voice – threw his head back and laughed, his hand reaching up to clasp hers.

Even at this distance, Fíli could see how much his brother positively glowed under that El– Tauriel’s – affection.

He couldn’t remember the last time his brother looked like that. 

Something familiar, dark and acrid crawled up Fíli’s chest like thick, choking vines and it wrapped around his torso, squeezing tightly until all the air in his lungs left in a warm rush. The staccato beat of his hammering heart, the tacky feeling of cooling sweat of his brow, the slight harshness of his breath, all of that faded away to the back of his mind. Instead, he could only focus on the two happy figures before him, and he could see every little detail as clearly as if he was viewing the world with a magnifying glass – the lax manner Kíli was patting the Elf’s hand, the gentle twinkle that shone in his eyes, the sweet soft dimples on his face from his smile, the way his face was tilted up towards her in adoration.

A jolt of pain lanced up his chest but he couldn’t look away, not when the Elf was leaning ever closer to his brother, and she was bending down now, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders like a curtain of fine silk. Kíli reached up to tuck a lock of auburn hair behind her ear with a low chuckle, and his hand stilled. Gently, ever so gently, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone and –

And he pulled her closer towards him, expression serene –

And she angled her face towards his, her eyes fluttering shut –

And he –

And he –  

And Fíli could feel his chest _burn_.

_Get away from him! Get away from him, get away, get away, get away, GET AWAY! GET AWAY!!_

“Cousin Fíli!!”

A flash of metal came rushing towards him and Fíli’s body reacted; without a second thought, he brought his sword up to meet the oncoming blade head-on, and a loud, harsh screech of steel grating against steel pierced the air. He pushed his opponent’s blade away with a snarl and pivoted, elbowing the other in the gut twice before gripping his opponent’s arm. In one breathless second, he sent the other flying over his shoulders with a perfectly executed toss.

“EEeeeeeeeeee – !!!!”

At the high-pitched shriek, he snapped back into awareness as suddenly as having been doused in ice water. His eyes widened at the sight of his screeching cousin shoot through the air like a rock out of a catapult, slamming just as hard into the packed dirt with a loud thump. A cloud of thick, brown dust kicked up from where he landed.

“Thorin!” he cried in alarm and tossed his swords to the side as he rushed towards the groaning figure. Sinking down to his knees, Fíli immediately ran urgent hands over his cousin’s chest and ribs to check for broken bones. “Thorin! I’m so sorry! Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere? Nod once if you feel pain and I will – Wait, no, don’t nod. You could’ve landed on your head. I’ll go fetch a healer. I'll go get some –”  

“I’m fine,” Thorin wheezed out amidst Fíli’s stream of worry. A light coating of dust fell from his person with every choked breath he took. “Just need a mo’ – oh stop that.” He caught one of Fíli’s panicked hands in a firm grip. “Stop,” he gritted out again, squeezing the hand in his grasp for good measure. “I’m fine. Just needed to catch…my breath.” After a few gulps of air, “Help me up.”

With his free hand, Fíli gently guided Thorin until he was sitting up comfortably. He shimmied closer to let Thorin lean against him. Some of the dust had gotten into his hair; Thorin would be peeved when he finds out.

“I am so, so sorry. I was distracted and it was utterly my fault. I swear I will make it up to –”  Fíli paused. “Are you, are you laughing?”

Thorin’s shoulders, which began to shake during Fíli’s rambling, continued to grow more and more violent. At Fíli’s question however, it seemed what little control he had over his composure finally snapped. He tossed his head back and guffawed.

“That was absolutely ridiculous!” his cousin howled out, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. “You just went ‘Whoosh’, and then I went ‘ahhh!’” He made a gesture with his hand in what Fíli thought was supposed to represent an object sailing through the air. “And then I bloody _flew_ through the air! And went ‘thump!’” His hands mimed a small explosion. “What even was that move anyway? That was madness! That was brilliant!”

Fíli could feel his cheeks flushed bright red in mortification. “Dwalin taught it to me, but the move doesn't have a name,” he mumbled, with his head lowered. “I’ve been calling it the Dwarf Toss in my mind.”

Thorin looked at him in silence with wide surprised eyes. Then, for the second time that afternoon, he broke out into loud guffaws. “The _Dwarf Toss!_ ” he wheezed, and Fíli could feel the red flush of embarrassment travel further down his chest. He was surprised that steam was not escaping through his ears at this point. “Why would you – that is ridiculous!”

At the feeling of a nudge on his shoulders, Fíli looked up. Thorin was still chortling as he haphazardly wiped the tears from his eyes. His eyes were shining with mirth and his cheeks were flushed rosy. Clearly, Fíli thought a little dourly, his fall didn’t faze him at all.

“We need to come up with a better name for that move,” Thorin announced with the authority of one born to royalty. “But first, you must teach me how you did that! That was amazing and magnificent!”

He stopped and peered over Fíli’s shoulder, “Cousin Kíli! Did you see what Cousin Fíli did there? Looks like the _Lion of Erebor_ has a few tricks up his sleeves!”

Fíli, who frankly forgot all about his brother in that brief, panicked second, snapped his head up. Kíli was staring back, his lips pressed together to create a thin line, previous traces of laughter gone entirely. Fíli may have mistaken, but his brother looked uncharacteristically tense. Before Fíli could figure out what was wrong, Kíli gave a terse nod and stalked off with Tauriel following silently behind with a small confused frown.

That was strange. And unnerving.

“Hmmm.”

He turned back to look at Thorin, whose serious gaze flickered between the space where Kíli was standing and Fíli. “Hmmm what?” Fíli asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Thorin shook his head lightly. “Just experiencing a small bout of dizziness. Nothing serious. Now, where were we? Best eight out of fifteen?”

* * *

They spent another hour duelling before they both conceded that a bath and a change of clothes were much needed before dinner, and following that, a trip to the night market.

“I shall see you in a few hours then,” Cousin Thorin had announced with a wave on their way out of the training grounds. “That should just about give us enough time to make ourselves presentable.”

“Only a few hours? Goodness, that is hardly any time at all,” Fíli’s intoned drily. “How will we ever manage to get ourselves sorted in such a tight schedule?”

“Some of us require more time to wash the dust off of them after being rudely introduced to the dirt ground,” Thorin quipped back without missing a beat. “Perhaps, if the other party finds himself with extra time on his hand, he can use it to come up with a better name for his move than the unfortunate ‘Dwarf Toss’.”

And with a turn of his heels, he flounced off, leaving Fíli to stare after his retreating back. 

“Oy! There is nothing wrong with ‘Dwarf Toss!’” Fíli called out, his cheeks flushing again. His cousin did not bother to respond, the little turd.  

Rolling his eyes once again, he stalked off to the Royal Wing after giving his personal guards a quick nod of acknowledgement as they seemingly materialised behind nearby pillars to follow him back.

Perhaps Thorin had been right. He could probably be a tad bit more creative with naming some of his signature battle moves, but Fíli had always been painfully practical and straightforward, both of which worked against him when it came to all things involving creativity.

Kíli had always been the more creative one.

His expression darkened. Kíli, who’s madness he could not begin to understand. Honestly, what could he possibly see in that she-Elf? She was, understandably, beautiful in the way all Elves were with pale, flawless skin, high cheekbones and glorious fine hair like spun silk, and she must possess some spark of wit to her to have made his brother laugh so. But like all Elves, she exuded a chilling aloofness as if to think that all creature in Middle-Earth were beneath her, a stark contrast to his brother’s warm and passionate heart.

Fíli snorted and stalked up to the door to his shared apartment with Kíli. Perhaps Kíli fancied himself a challenge, and he is taken by his own pride whenever he succeeded in making her feel…something, anything. If that is the case, then it will only be a matter of time before the novelty wears off and Kíli can cease this madness.

He pushed open the door with a sour taste in his mouth.  The lie felt painfully hollow even to him.

“How was your day?”

He jolted. Kíli was seated a few paces away from him, dressed in his casual cotton tunic and trousers. In his hands were his favourite hunting knife and what seemed to be an oil-moistened cloth.

“Kíli? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be out longer with, er, Miss Tauriel.”

“I had a few matters to attend to before dinner. We thought it’d be best to meet up tomorrow morning.” Kíli shrugged and went back to oiling his knife. “So, how was it?” he asked without looking up. “I thought I saw you sparring with Thorin.”  

Fíli pressed his lips as the clenching pain in his heart flared up once again at the reminder of what Kíli had been doing at the training grounds. “It was, uh,” he mumbled, trying to wrestle his bitter feelings down, “it was entertaining?”

“Entertaining,” Kíli repeated.

Fíli hummed in agreement. He strolled to a nearby table and started removing his weaponry protective garbs in deft movements, arranging them in neat piles to be stored back into his personal chamber later. “Yes. Cousin Thorin is a surprisingly quick learner. He managed to get me a few times although I managed to win at the end.”

He chuckled a little at the memory of Thorin screeching as he sailed through the air. In hindsight, it had been a pretty hilarious moment. “Hopefully, he will be up for another round of sparring sometime in the near future. It will be interesting to see what sort of tricks he will bring to the table the next time around. Cousin Thorin is” – quite a character, bizarre, not at all what Fíli had initially pinned him as, surprisingly endearing, a bit of a dramatic brat – “entertaining.”    

At Kíli’s silence, he cleared his throat. “So, er, how about you? How was your day with Miss Tauriel?”

“It was fine,” Kíli said curtly, which was surprising. Fíli would have expected his brother to be positively gushing about his – about how he and that she-Elf –

He shook his head. Not thinking about it.

“Alright, well, I will see you at dinner? I have to go make myself presentable now.”

He grabbed his items off the table and was on his way to his bedroom when, “Say, Fíli. I have been thinking.”

He turned and glanced at his brother, who was finally looking up from his task at hand. There was something in Kíli’s voice, something uncharacteristically tentative, that made him pause. “Yes?”

“We haven’t been spending a lot of time together, not since the…” he trailed off, the fight went unsaid. “Do you want to visit the night market with me after dinner?”

Fíli’s heart lit up. The mere fact that Kíli wanted to spend time with him was a dream come true, and he had missed his brother terribly, had missed the closeness that they had once shared effortlessly. Although they had apologized to each other, that same level of closeness had not returned, each still walking on eggshells around the other least they spark another argument.

But then, he remembered. _Thorin_.

“Sorry Kíli,” Fíli apologized with a wince, already knowing that his brother would not like his answer given his disdain towards Thorin. “I already agreed to visit the market with Cousin Thorin after dinner. Maybe another time?”

Kíli’s expression grew stormy, but he nodded. “Another time, then.”

“Another time. I promise,” Fíli stressed with as much sincerity as he could muster. That seemed to have done the trick because Kíli returned a small smile.

“Alright, deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [AN] Surprise bitches, I’m back! And we have officially entered the second arc of the story \o/ Huzzah, we made it! (many years later…OTL)
> 
> Things are about to get complicated. For those who are cringing at the incest tag, now’s a good time to call it quits for this fic because from here on end, Imma be developing that ship, or at least, attempt to. We’ll see how successful I get.
> 
> Thank you once again to those who are (still) reading and reviewing. You guys are amazing and are everything a fanfic writer can wish for. <3
> 
> [1] Fíli did try to give his cousin’s suggested readings a good ol’ college try, but he couldn’t make it past halfway through before flipping through the rest of the book and skimming the last couple of chapters. What he failed to realize was the reason why Thorin liked those books – they reflect, with a certain amount of accuracy – the callous, shallow personalities he encounters in the Iron Hills court, so he can relate to those novels on a deeper and more personal level than Fíli can. 
> 
> Of course, the fact that those same callous, shallow characters die in a fire, well, that’s just an added delightful bonus.
> 
> [2] As Cousin Thorin becomes more comfortable with Fíli, more of his real personality (read: as a grade A mischievous brat) is starting to shine through his act of being a conniving puppet master. 
> 
> [3] Aside from the Dwarf Toss, some of Fíli’s names for his other moves include the Spinning Slash and the Rib Strike. The names themselves are perfectly acceptable; it’s just Thorin who is being a dramatic brat (see point 2.)


End file.
